


Phantom Gravity

by infinisei



Series: Phantom Gravity [1]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Ectoranium, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Full Ghost Danny Fenton, Ghost Hunter Sam, Ghost Hunters, Ghost King Danny Fenton, Ghost Zone (Danny Phantom), Ghostly Obsession, Torture, mentions of mind control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 91,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25944490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinisei/pseuds/infinisei
Summary: Sam was already having a bad day when some ghost decided to taunt her with the most infuriating smirk and words about how ghosts are superior to humans.How was she supposed to know that he wasn't an ordinary ghost?---The fully-expanded version ofGhostly Pursuits. To be updated every week.
Relationships: Danny Fenton/Sam Manson
Series: Phantom Gravity [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824994
Comments: 216
Kudos: 178





	1. mind games

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I can’t believe it’s finally happening.
> 
> To give you some background, I had written _Ghostly Pursuits_ over the summer of 2017 in a mad rush of inspiration and motivation. I was so moved by how many readers had commented and really loved the little snippets of this story. Most surprisingly, I’d gotten a lot of good critical feedback about how they felt something was lacking because there were only a collection of disconnected scenes. A lot of people wanted more, and I 100% agreed.
> 
>  _Phantom Gravity_ has been something I’ve worked on for the past three years. It’s been slow-going (much to my dismay), but going from a 14k word fic to a 80k+ word fic took me some time! 
> 
> ****AN IMPORTANT NOTE, PLEASE READ:**** _Phantom Gravity_ is the reworked version of _Ghostly Pursuits_. If you've never read _Ghostly Pursuits_ before, **I highly recommend you read this fic instead of _Ghostly Pursuits_**. Not only are the plot and the characters more fleshed out, but my writing has also significantly improved. If you’ve read _Ghostly Pursuits_ before, I recommend reading through all the parts that seem familiar anyway, because there is a good chance that something has changed. While there are some snippets from _Ghostly Pursuits_ in this fic, _Phantom Gravity_ doesn’t fully follow the general plot of _Ghostly Pursuits_. I also plan to post every 1-2 weeks (I've learned a lot about myself and how I write from previous fics lol).
> 
> I really hope that you enjoy my baby, which has been close to my heart and I’ve poured so much time and energy and my soul into over the past three years. I hope this becomes a welcome distraction during this crazy, surreal, and uncertain time of COVID. Thank you to tigrrli for beta'ing both versions of this fic, I can't believe you agreed to read it over the second time around.
> 
> As always, reviews give me life!!! Do not repost any of this work without my permission.

“Mom, for the last time,” Sam Manson said, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I will not take a class on Campaigns and Elections instead of my Gender and Public Policy class next semester.”

“But Sam,” her mother’s whine in her ear set Sam’s teeth on edge, “the class is so much more practical, that was why Mrs. Lear recommended it.”

“Sweetie-pie,” Sam’s father's voice came in more faintly, “you know that Mrs. Lear is a very prominent figure as City Attorney. She knows what she’s talking about, and she says that if you want to become a successful public figure, then taking classes like Campaigns and Elections will make it easier for you to get an internship in the Senator’s office.”

“Like I’ve said a million times, I don’t want to be a cog in government,” Sam snapped. “I would rather jump off a cliff than that. I’ve been telling you for years that I’m gonna be a human rights lawyer. You have no say in what classes I do or don't take now that I’m in college.”

With that, Sam hung up the phone, then stomped down the street with a huff.

Sam was pretty sure she was the only college student who was _not_ happy about being home for summer.

She could admit that she enjoyed not having to go to classes or not needing to study. But dammit, she’d rather be studying for a final she had the next day than be stuck in _Amity Park_. Not only was her hometown filled with vapid and selfish idiots, but it also meant having to deal with her parents, who were vapid and selfish and _petty_ to the nth degree. That was the fifth time they’d tried to get her to take that fucking Campaigns and Elections class and they would not listen to any of Sam’s objections. Her best friend Tucker was thousands of miles away in his own hometown, so she couldn’t even hang out with him. And all of her old high school classmates were morons or vapid, selfish creatures she didn’t want to see ever again. Sam couldn’t even take comfort in sleeping in, because her parents were morning people and woke her up at seven every morning. Monsters.

Her only solace this summer would be the Skulk and Lurk and Gothic Poetry Night. With a little luck, the summer would be over before she knew it and she’d be back at Berkeley, the furthest she could get away from this place.

A loud crash interrupted her inner rant. 

“Ghost!” a man screamed, followed by a series of more yells and screeches.

Well, Skulk and Lurk, Gothic Poetry Night, and ghost hunting. She couldn’t forget about the ghost hunting.

Eager to divert her thoughts from her problems, Sam ran towards the source of the screaming while reaching behind her for her backpack. She turned the corner and, sure enough, there was a ghost with sunglasses, a cape, and an awful, silver mullet. His hands glowed white, and a store window shattered. Pieces of technology began flying out of the open window and circling him.

“Yes,” the ghost crowed. He had a high, nasally voice that had Sam’s irritation rising. “Come to me, my precious technology, so we can upgrade my form and induce fear upon the humans!”

“I don’t think any upgrade can save you from how awful that mullet is,” Sam snarked, snapping on her wrist rays. They whined as they powered up.

“Eh?” the ghost turned. As soon as he spotted her, he smirked. “You foolish girl! You think you can defeat me, Technus, the ghost of all things electronic?”

She couldn’t help but grin at that. “Yup, pretty much.”

She shot her rays and they struck Technus straight in the chest. He blew back a few feet.

A scowl on his face and the front of his chest wafting smoke, Technus pointed his hands towards the swirling cloud of tech, and it converged and morphed into a ginormous humanoid robot. It glared down at her.

Time to work.

Sam shot the bot directly in the face. It raised an arm to block, but Sam was already moving, charging at the automaton’s legs. At such a low angle, it didn’t spot her second shot to its face until it was too late. It reeled back. Sam, now several feet behind it, aimed for the back of both knee joints with a blast from both wristrays.

It crashed to the ground.

Sam dipped her hand into her pocket and threw a couple of discs. They lodged in its neck, and the electrical shock from them shorted it out. It died with a whine.

Panting slightly, Sam looked up in time to see a TV flying towards her. She threw herself to the side, but was too slow; one corner glanced off her arm. That was going to be one hell of a bruise.

The TV was the first of many projectiles. Suddenly, Sam was dodging electronics left and right, scrambling to her feet to give herself more room to dodge. A flicker of black flashed in the corner of her eye, and all of a sudden she was choking, hands clutching a wire wrapped around her throat.

For a brief moment, panic flooded her senses. Her lungs screamed at her, demanding oxygen, and her vision clouded in a haze of panic. Then, her rational self-preservation instincts kicked in. Through watery eyes, she jerkily shot a blast at Technus’ form. She knew it’s successful when the wire loosened its hold on her, and she took immediate advantage, wrestling the wire off her and flinging it away. 

She felt more than heard Technus behind her, and she ducked in time for his punch to sail harmlessly over her head. And then she twisted to deliver an uppercut to his jaw.

“Why, you little—” He recovered quickly, and barreled into her in an instant. Hitting the ground, Sam hurriedly fended off the ghost’s descent onto her with a kick to his chest. She quickly followed the hit with a blast from her ray, and the force of it was enough to knock him into the brick of a bank.

It was now or never. Technus was still on the ground, dazed from his crash, and Sam proceeded to take full advantage of it. Her Fenton Thermos was out of her backpack in a second, and was ready to fire in the next.

Technus saw what she was about to do. “No, wait!” he cried before the beam of energy overwhelmed him. Mercilessly, the thermos sucked the ghost into the container.

She pushed a strand of hair away from her sweaty forehead, panting with exertion, and smiled triumphantly. It would always feel a little cathartic to kick some ghost ass.

“No!” The thermos vibrated in her hands. “You make a dire mistake, child! You risk your entire human world if you do not free me!”

Oh, please. What bullshit. “I think I’ll take my chances,” she scoffed. She tossed the thermos in the air. It twirled twice before she caught it.

“I am your only salvation! You will die if you don’t release me.”

She rapped sharply on the walls of the thermos. “Hey, can it, dude. You’re taking away my winning high.”

“Interesting,” a voice mused. The air chilled. Her thermos stopped rattling in her hands.

Gasping in surprise, Sam whirled around to find glowing crimson eyes staring at her with detached curiosity.

Suppressing the electric something crawling down her spine, she took a step back. Unlike the Technus ghost she’d just captured, this ghost looked around the same age as her. He was shorter than Technus yet still nearly a head taller than Sam. He was also more toned than Technus, his skin a ghostly white that matched his silver hair and the black and white jumpsuit.

She cursed herself for letting down her guard so quickly. Switching her mind back into ghost hunting mode, she settled into a defensive stance.

Tires screeched and the smell of burned rubber filled Sam’s nose as three police cars arrived on the scene. At the sudden disturbance, Sam noted the circle of people that had gathered. They whispered to each other, taking fearful glances at the ghost in front of her. A handful backed away and took off down the street, fleeing altogether. 

“Ma’am, step away from the ghost!” the policeman closest to her shouted. The police had gotten out of their cars and were taking cover behind their doors. Sam noted that they all looked to have drawn their weapons.

“Don’t worry, I got this!”

“Step _away_ , ma’am!”

What was this guy’s problem? Didn’t they know a ghost hunter when they saw one? “Stop worrying about me and get these people back!” Sam yelled.

“I would listen to the officer,” the ghost piped in smugly.

_Oh, no he didn’t._

Sam hissed, “I’m in a bad mood, you fucker, but if you’re dumb enough to float there in front of me, then I hope you’re ready for some pain.”

The ghost threw back his head and _laughed_.

Her jaw dropped in outrage. How dare he! She’d shown that she was more than capable of handling ghosts, _and he just laughs right in front of her face?_

A swell of anger had her clenching her fists. She marched right up to him. He straightened up as she approached, his mouth still crooked in a grin, giving her the perfect opportunity to give him a solid right hook to the face.

Every single human surrounding her gasped in horror.

The ghost fingered his cheek. “You punched me,” he noted, eerily calm.

“I did. What are you going to do about it?” Sam challenged. “Laugh in my face again? Go ahead, I dare you.” She readied her wrist rays, heartbeat quickening in anticipation.

“Ma’am, please,” the cop’s voice had turned desperate. “Apologize to phantom and let us take you home.”

“Apologize?” she fumed. “I will not apologize to an obnoxious, arrogant ghost who’s in the wrong dimension!”

The crimson-eyed ghost’s voice turned steely. “The only rules ghosts have to follow are the Ghost King’s. You seriously think that you have any say in whether we can be in this world?”

She snarled back, “This dimension is the human world, and ghosts can’t just just come here and hurt and kill innocent and defenseless people. Humans are strong-willed and smart and we will annihilate all of you from our home.” As she ranted, she twisted her right wrist. There was a subtle beep.

He smiled. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

“Why would I care who you are, when I’ve already gotten you?” Triumphantly, she raised her hand, her wristray set to cannonfire mode, and blasted him right in the chest.

Or, she would have, had the ghost not knocked the beam away with a casual flick of his wrist. 

_What the—_ She gaped at him. In all her time ghost hunting, none of the ghosts she’d encountered could survive a cannon shot to the chest, let alone block it so nonchalantly.

A dose of common sense hit her like a cold bucket of water dumped on her head. The bystanders’ terror and meekness. His power, unlike anything she’d ever seen. His presence demanding attention and submission. The police officer pleading with her to apologize to phantom.

Not phantom. _The_ Phantom. As in the Ghost King, Phantom, the most powerful ghost in existence, ruler of all ghosts and _—_ for as long as humans could remember—terrorizer of humans and the human world. The ghost that had done everything he’d wanted, let ghosts wreak havoc on humans, and didn’t give a damn about the humans caught in the crossfire. There were horror stories throughout human history of Phantom decimating entire civilizations, humans powerless against him. He was the main boogeyman in children’s nightmares, the horrible threat that many compared to the Devil.

_Oh, fucking shit._

“Ma’am—” the policeman tried to start again, but in the blink of an eye and a flash of green, Phantom shot a hole right through the police car door and his chest.

The policeman stared down at himself in surprise. Then, he crumpled. He didn’t move again.

Several people screamed. Many began to bolt. The other officers, pale and shaken at the sudden loss of their comrade, backed away in surrender, guns clattering to the ground. They threw themselves into their cruisers and drove away with a screech, leaving Sam alone with the Ghost King. 

Apparently, they recognized a lost cause when they saw one.

Sam tried to breathe through the invisible clamp on her chest. She was dead. And it was completely her fault. She couldn’t blame any of the bystanders; they had tried their best to warn her. She had gotten an officer killed because of it. She briefly considered fleeing herself, but knew how useless it would be to run, fight, or hide. It was best to just stay still and wait for it to be over.

Meanwhile, he continued to study her. “Figured out who I am?” he guessed in amusement.

Sam nodded mechanically. Then, with a dull wave of resignation, she said, “Well, get on with it.”

“Get on with what?”

“You know, killing me. Making me wish I had never been born. Torturing me until I beg you to kill me.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to scream? Run away?”

“Why would I do that?”

“To save yourself?” he suggested.

Even in the face of certain death, she scoffed. “Why would I give you the satisfaction?”

This time, Phantom stepped right into her personal space. It was then that she became aware of how the tip of her head only reached his chin, how his suit did nothing to hide the defined lines of his shoulders and arms, and how strands of his hair fell into his eyes but failed to lessen the power behind his gaze.

He brushed his hand against her cheek. Sam shivered. “I could break you,” he murmured. “I could take your mind and your body and chip them away piece by piece until you’re begging for death. Why not do everything in your power to escape that fate?”

She trembled. “Because,” she managed, “I want to die as me. Maybe I’ll be enduring the worst pain of my life soon, but I don’t beg anyone for anything, and I won’t let the Ghost King change that.” 

It was odd to confess this to the King of Ghosts, but Sam felt the need to say it out loud. She needed the words spoken to convince herself that they were true.

Even so, she had already signed her death warrant, kissed it, and sent it off in the mail. She braced herself. She thought of Tucker, and how lucky she was to have found him as a friend. And despite all the past headaches caused by the pair, she thought of her parents, who would be wrecked at the news of her death. She thought of her grandmother with a heavy heart, and hated that she couldn’t say goodbye to her.

Wait, why wasn’t she dead yet?

Sam heard a chuckle. She peeked through her eyelashes. His hand was still on her cheek and tingles from the contact prickled across her skin. There was a gleam in his eyes.

“I have to say, you are either the stupidest or bravest human I’ve ever met.”

Stress and possibly stupidity had her slapping his hand away. “That’s great, really happy for you.”

Still grinning, he said, “You know what? I’ve changed my mind.”

“...A-About?” Sam asked cautiously.

“Congratulations, you are the first creature—dead or alive—that I’ve allowed to live after insulting me in such a way.”

_What?_ ”You’re... _you’re letting me go?_ ”

He shrugged, which was such an absurdly human look that it took a second for her to pay attention to what he was saying. “My usual methods of torture don’t seem to fit. I think you call for a more…slow, deliberate torture. So, for now, you’ll get to go home with the knowledge that I’m not done with you.”

* * *

She went home with her cheek still tingling and half in denial over what had just happened.

“Sammykins, is that you?”

Sam winced at the piercing sound of her mother’s voice. She did not have the mental capacity to handle either of her parents right now. “Yeah, it’s me,” she called out. ”I’ll be in my room. Don’t wait for me for dinner!”

She moved to escape. She should have known better; when Pamela Manson set her mind to something, reality bent to her will to make it happen. The Manson matriarch caught her right at the foot of the stairs. “Sammykins, where have you been? I’ve called you ten times in the last hour!”

Sam could already feel the headache coming on. _Sorry Mom, I didn’t pick up because I had challenged the Ghost King and guaranteed my death._ A small, cynical part of her that wasn’t preoccupied with her narrow escape snorted in amusement, imagining her mom’s reaction to that. “I’m sorry, mom. My phone died.”

Pam huffed in irritation. “Well, make sure it doesn’t happen again. You made it just in time to get ready for your Casper High reunion.”

“Don’t worry, Mom, I—what? What Casper High reunion? It hasn’t even been five years since I graduated high school!”

“Casper High highly values its alumni community.” Ugh, Sam wanted to gag at the corniness of that sentence. ”So, go and get dressed so you can get there on time! I left an outfit on your bed to save time.”

Sam scowled. “Mom! I’m not going to go to a stupid reunion. Not only did I promise myself that I would never step foot on high school premises ever again when I graduated, but everyone in my year hates me. And the feeling is completely mutual.”

“Nonsense! There were plenty of wonderful kids in your class. You deserve a day to ‘hang out’ with your friends and ‘catch up.’”

Sam rubbed her temples. “Mom, for once in your life, would you please listen to me? _I’m not going back to that hellhole_.”

Her mother frowned at that. “Samantha Manson, you will go to that reunion, and that is the end of this discussion.”

There went any hope of her headache going away. Idly, Sam wondered why she had taken the time to miss her parents when she thought she was about to die. “I’m a full-grown adult! You can’t make me do anything!”

“Oh?” Her mother raised an eyebrow. “What about our agreement?”

Sam’s teeth clacked shut.

Pam smiled sweetly. She knew she had her daughter right where she wanted her. “The driver is waiting out front. Don’t be late.”

As soon as her mother left the room, Sam stomped up to her room to stuff her face in a pillow and scream in frustration. 

There was a deep chuckle suddenly above her head. “And I’d thought I’d already seen obnoxious parenting.”

Sam couldn’t help but yelp at the voice. She turned and sat up, searching the room.

“I’m right here,” it whispered directly into her ear, and she reflexively jerked away, tumbling to defensively crouch at the side of her bed.

Phantom materialized right in front of her eyes, floating on his back over her bed. He rested his hands on his hands, entirely nonchalant about being in her room uninvited.

The Ghost King. In her room.

He turned his head to smirk at her. “Hello, Samantha.”

“Y-You—” She couldn’t even. “ _What are you doing here?_ ”

“I told you I’d be back,” he reminded her, still content to hover in the middle of her room. “That’s a fucking awful dress your mother picked for you. Has she always had such shitty taste?”

Confused at the unexpected question, she chanced a glance at her bed. Sure enough, a slightly-crumpled magenta dress with flowery, white lace lay there, waiting. She wanted to gag just looking at the bright, feminine monstrosity.

A thought occurred to her. “Wait a second, how did you know my mother picked that out?”

Phantom tsked. “You know, for a decent ghost hunter, I thought you’d be more aware of your surroundings.”  
  


She gaped at him. “You came back to spy on me and my family?”

“You’re assuming I left in the first place, dear Samantha.”

Her heart stopped. Not only had he stalked her, he knew her name, where she lived, and her family. She had just brought danger to haunt her doorstep. The worst kind of danger.

A cruel, awful reality crashed down on her. Was this what she had signed herself up for? For this ghost to learn every single part of her life, to never know when he wasn’t watching, to be forever paranoid? To be absolutely powerless against him, unable to fight back or protect the ones she loved from his reach? For him to peel her like an onion, study every newly-revealed facet of her, good and bad, and rip it away until all that was left of her was an empty shell, forced to watch him hurt those she loved?

She snatched a ghost gun from under her bed and aimed it at him. “Get out!”

His smug smirk never strayed. He had a raw-edged vitality to him, even completely motionless. She could almost see the energy thrumming under his skin, just out of sight. It was in his posture, in the way he looked at her. She distantly wondered if it was safer to just run away, or to pull the trigger.

“No,” he said simply.

She tightened her grip on the gun. “I said get out!”

“Sammykins! You better be down here, fully presentable, within an hour, or I’m coming up there!”

_Her mother_. “I’ll be right down,” she called back, desperately trying to suppress the panic in her voice.

Phantom’s grin widened. “Better get dressed.”

Her lips pressed tightly together. She had to get ready so that her mother wouldn’t walk into this nightmare, but there was no way in hell she was changing in front of him. He gave no indication that he would leave, and she had no way of making sure he wouldn’t do something while she was changing. Sam pointed a finger at him. “Just. Stay there.”

She snatched the dress from her bed, then went to her bathroom and locked herself in. She moved quickly, putting the gun next to the kitchen sink and pulling out her supplies to make her usual adjustments to the dress before stripping. Every so often, she would suspiciously glance at the door, then around the room, looking for some sign that Phantom had decided to peek in. She couldn’t tell, and she couldn’t help the prickle of paranoia from crawling across the back of her neck. She waited for him to suddenly appear, to grab her or touch her while she was undressed, and got even more nervous when he didn’t. And then she thought of her mother, naively downstairs, and prayed that Phantom hadn’t decided to prey upon her defenseless mother.

Soon, Sam finished and flung open the door. With a jolt of relief, she found him in the exact same place she’d left him. _Not that it meant anything_ , a voice in her head sneered at her. Even still, it was reassuring that he was here and not hurting anyone else.

He glanced at her once, then looked again. Hard.

She knew what he was thinking. He’d been expecting her to cave completely and wear the horrid dress. The thing was, he didn't know her, or her usual procedure for salvaging any item of clothing her parents pressured her into wearing. She’d ripped off most of the lace and dyed the entire thing black. She’d then put on minimal makeup, a necklace, and a set of earrings from her grandmother. 

All in all, she’d managed to pull off a look that fit her tastes while still (somewhat) appeasing her mother. Her mother wouldn’t demand that she change, at least.

Slowly, Phantom moved into an upright position, eyes still trained on her like lasers. His gaze swept up and down her figure as if it were a physical touch.

Sam crossed her arms. “What?”

“Impressive.” He drifted over to her.

“What, that I’d managed to dress myself?” Sam said sarcastically. He circled around her, and Sam turned with him, keeping him in her sight. She felt incredibly vulnerable in a short dress with limited mobility and showing far more skin than she wanted to reveal.

“Do you do this often?”

“Do what?”

“Passive-aggressive wardrobe modifications.”

Sam eyed him warily. She felt like he was a lion assessing a tiny unknown creature, toying with her. “Why are you asking?”

“I’ve only known you for a sum total of ninety minutes and I already got the feeling that you don’t let anyone tell you what to do.”

“I know what my beliefs and my rights are; I won’t let anyone take that away from me.”

A glint appeared in his eyes, and Sam instantly regretted saying that.

Very deliberately, he placed his hand on her throat, fingers wrapping around her frantic pulse. She kept stock-still, barely daring to even blink. This close, she inhaled and smelled ice and lightning. Like an electric storm in the middle of winter, threatening to freeze everything in its path. It reminded her of ozone.

Smelling ozone, she remembered, was a warning. A warning of something dangerous amidst.

“How funny,” he mused. “I know what my rights are as King; in fact, I can’t seem to think about anything that’s not in my power. Like making your heartbeat, which is going a mile a minute right now, stop.”

Sam said nothing.

His eyes traced her figure again. “Keep that in mind, next time you try to talk back at me.”

And then he disappeared, leaving her alone in her room.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Casper High looked exactly the same since she’d last seen it. Dingy lockers, stained floors, flickering lights overhead—was the auditorium still under construction? Damn, the place must’ve been consistently haunted by ghosts for months on end for it to look that bad. Yup, same old high school.

Had she mentioned how much she despised this place?

Sam hadn’t been lying or exaggerating when she told her mother that she had vowed to never set foot on this campus ever again. There was a memory waiting for her in every corner and dimly-lit hallway, and none of them were pleasant reminders. 

It was one thing to be a goth in high school. It was another to be an ultra-recyclo vegetarian goth who believed in animal and planetary rights and was vocal enough about it to grate on her fellow students’ and teachers’ nerves. No amount of money in her family’s bank account could make up for how she spat in the faces of Casper High’s social elite and never once apologized for it, nor regretted it. Plus, she’d taken up ghost hunting to protect herself against ghosts, something Casper High’s elite considered social suicide. She’d never understood why ghost hunting was so unpopular when a ghost had interrupted classes and threatened their lives at least once a week. But whatever. 

In summary, Sam was incredibly low on the social ladder, but Sam had been fine with it because she’d planned on never seeing these people ever again.

Hence why Sam was currently hiding in a dark corner of the gym, silently cursing her mother while glaring at the excessive amount of streamers and balloons that reminded her of the junior prom she’d been forced to attend. She was also checking her phone every twenty seconds and praying to anything listening to make the whole thing go quicker.

But then again, she was also a pessimist.

“Fuck, this looks awful. Is this a part of the Ghost Zone that I didn’t know about?”

Sam flinched. She exhaled, and her breath wafted in front of her. “Why are you here? Stop following me!” she hissed with as much vitriol as she could under her breath.

“I was curious why you were so against going to a silly reunion.” Phantom’s ever-present pretentious attitude grated on her nerves in the worst way.

“Isn’t a stupid high school event a little beneath you?” she asked acerbically.

The air shifted behind her, and she shuddered at the weight of his presence at the back of her neck. Invisible arms encircled her waist. With aborted movements, Sam frantically tried to twist away, but his grip was like iron. “Stop trying to irritate me,” he warned her in a murmur. “You won’t do yourself—or those close to you—any favors.”

The threat was quite clear. Gritting her teeth, she opened her mouth to reply—

“Well, if it isn’t Sam Manson!”

_Oh, for the love of all that was dark and demented._ Just her shitty luck.

Struggling to look like she wasn’t _literally_ in the clutches of an evil ghost, Sam warily assessed Paulina Sanchez and Dash Baxter strolling up to her arm-in-arm. Out of everyone that she had not wanted to run into here, these two were tied for first place.

“Who do we have here?” Phantom drawled.

She had to get Dash and Paulina away from the Ghost King as soon as possible. She may hate the two high school bullies, but she had never wished them dead, and they had unknowingly approached the most dangerous creature in existence. She didn’t even try to fake a smile. “Paulina. Dash.”

“Never thought I’d see you again. I thought you’d already be in jail for protesting about pollution, or some other crap.” Paulina gave her outfit a disgusted once-over. “Though your ‘dress’ will rectify that soon.”

Phantom’s grip tightened on her infinitesimally. 

Sam ignored him. “Wow, you’ve really improved your vocabulary since the last time I saw you, Paulina,” she said sarcastically. “Rectify—three syllables and everything!”

“Bitch!” Paulina spat at her. 

Dash sneered. “Still a cunt with no friends. No wonder she can’t get anyone to care about her.”

A crowd had formed during Dash’s insult, consisting of the Power Couple’s lackeys, Kwan and Starr. They all snickered at the performance of public humiliation. Someone in the back of the crowd jeered, “You tell her, Dash!”

Their insults were fairly old, almost to the point where she wished they’d come up with better material, but usually the more they felt like they were successfully harassing her, the more likely they stayed and harassed her more. It must’ve been the nostalgia of the reunion, because they still showed no signs of dispersing. _Of course Dash and Paulina had to be difficult_ , she thought darkly.

Time for another approach. “Hilarious,” Sam said flatly. “How’s college been for you, by the way? Oh wait, you got held back a year! Or was it two?” She let a cruel smirk grace her lips. “Shouldn’t you be in class right now, Dash? Lancer won’t be happy that his ‘star pupil’ is skipping class.”

The football jock’s face flushed red, and the vein in his temple pulsed unattractively. “How the fuck do you know about that?”

She crossed her arms over Phantom’s. “There are some benefits to being the Casper High Goth Cunt. People don’t pay attention to the losers while spilling secrets.” Sam mockingly covered her mouth. “Oh wait, was that secret? Whoops!”

“You—” And then, he was right in front of her, his hand raised high.

She had miscalculated badly, Sam realized grimly. She had thought announcing an embarrassing secret would cause the two to slink back into the shadows, but she had forgotten Dash’s temper. Sam readied herself to block his strike, but before she could do anything, Dash’s arm just _stopped in midair_.

Dash blinked at his unmoving arm. “Hey, what gives?”

“You know, for all the years I’ve been around, one of the things I have always hated is scum who think they’re at the top of the food chain.”

Sam’s hands instantly dropped to her waist, where her palms only met the fabric of her dress and empty air.

There was no one behind her, which meant—

Phantom appeared between one breath and the next, his hand still gripping Dash’s wrist.

A dark spot appeared at Dash’s crotch. The music screeched to a halt. Silence deafened the gymnasium, before—

“It-It’s the Ghost King!” someone whimpered.

“Run!” another shrieked.

Many turned to flee, but Phantom blasted a blazing blue beam that froze everyone’s shoes to the ground. Those closest to the beam were encased in ice completely. Only Sam was unaffected.

Kwan screamed. “ _My feet!_ ”

Phantom sneered at them all. “Pathetic.” He turned back to Dash, who was desperately cowering while unable to move his feet. Pauline was screaming. “Now,” Phantom continued lazily, “time to teach you some manners.”

The sound of electricity crackled around Phantom and Dash before Dash spasmed under his grip. He shrieked in agony.

The smell of charred flesh filled the air. Sam’s stomach turned. “Stop! Don’t hurt him!”

“Why?” he drawled over the screams. “He’s a waste of space. I’d be doing you and the world a favor by killing him.” 

Recklessly, Sam elbowed her way between the two. Phantom must have stopped electrocuting Dash, since she wasn’t on the ground spasming herself and there was only whimpering behind her. “Dash may be an idiot and, at times, a brute, but he doesn’t deserve to die from electrocution.”

Paulina gasped. “The goth freak is using the Ghost King to hurt Dash!”

The utter absurdity of the sentence sent Sam sputtering. “The fuck are you talking about?”

It was too late, though. The idea was out, and it spread quickly. Mutterings began spreading around them.

_Manson’s a ghost lover?_

_She’s going to get revenge on us all!_

_Someone call the Guys in White!_

“And people question why I hate humans,” Phantom said.

Sam glared at him. “Get lost! The Guys in White will be here soon.”

“Don’t insult me by putting me on the same level as those useless idiots,” he snapped, his temper flaring again.

“I wasn’t,” she said quickly. She thought fast. “Look, I’ll go with you wherever you want if you leave these people alone.”

He quirked an eyebrow. Tilting her head, Sam shivered as he bent his head so that his face was inches from hers. She couldn’t break away from his blood red eyes. 

“Deal,” Phantom announced. He released Dash’s wrist—and then he was right in front of her, his arms encircling her. There was a tug at her navel, and her vision twisted into darkness.


	2. nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _You all._
> 
> You have no idea how moved I am by the outpouring of support and excitement. The fact that some of you are still reading and loving GP warms me to my very core. I hope PG continues to be just as enjoyable and intriguing as its predecessor ❤️

Sam was shivering when she and Phantom appeared in a room. Whatever way Phantom was able to teleport, it had happened in an instant but had left her chilled to the bone. She shivered in her thin summer dress.

She stepped away from him as soon as possible. The room was empty. She wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to warm herself. She half-regretted offering to go with him anywhere, but she couldn’t think of anything else to get him away from Dash and the others. She hoped that they would be okay. Now, she had to focus on herself.

“Where are we?” Sam said guardedly.

Phantom grinned. “This place is supposed to be heavily haunted. I thought you would be interested as a ghost hunter.”

Sam narrowed her eyes at him. He may have been truthful that the place was haunted—she had that eerie crawling sensation that usually happened when a ghost had been haunting a space for decades—but that didn’t mean his motives were pure. “There are plenty of those places in Amity Park. Why did you pick _this_ place?” A thought struck her. “Wait, we _are_ still in Amity Park, right?”

He smirked at her but didn’t say anything. She glared at him, hating this and this fucked-up situation she’d gotten herself in.

Still shivering—why the fuck was it so cold in here—she took in the beige tiled floor and a wall covered in a series of short doors with latches. The smell of formaldehyde and something else suffocated her nose. 

A different kind of chill swept through her. She spun to face Phantom. “Why are we in a morgue?” Sam demanded, a note of panic in her voice.

Eyes gleaming crimson, he motioned to the wall of doors. “You might want to check in door E-3.”

Sam thought she had been tense before. Now, she wasn’t sure if she could relax ever again. “Why?”

“You’ll have to find out. Unless you want to go back to your alumni reunion, I’m sure your ‘friends’ are still there.” He mockingly offered her his hand.

Badly wishing she could maim him, she eyed the door E-3. She swallowed hard. His words at the end of their first encounter echoed in her head. _I think you call for a more...slow, deliberate torture._

Was there a body in there? Someone she knew? Her mind immediately went to her mother. Phantom had seen her mother, heard her nag Sam. Could he have gone back to her house and killed her mother in the time he had disappeared from her sight? Or was this a twisted way of sending her to her own death?

But it was either open the door and face the risks, or unleash the most powerful ghost known to humankind upon her former classmates. 

She hated her life.

Steeling her spine and not letting herself think about what she was doing, she stomped to E-3 and flung the door open.

A pair of pale feet was there waiting for her. She recoiled. She had so badly hoped there wasn’t going to be anything behind the door.

“Don’t you want to see who it is?” Phantom teased her in mock innocence.

Sam bit back a retort. In a jerky motion, she grabbed the handle of the drawer and pulled it out.

A sheet covered the corpse; she could only see its feet.

Desperately repressing the voice in the back of her head that was screaming at her, Sam grasped the sheet and pulled it off.

It wasn’t one of her parents. Or Dash. Or any of her former classmates. But it was someone she recognized.

It was the police officer. The one that Phantom had killed after he had called out to her too many times.

Sam trembled lightly. She remembered the look of shock on his face when Phantom blasted a hole into his chest.

Somehow, she found her voice. “Why are you making me see this?”

“I thought you might like it.”

“Might like—” Paulina and the other popular students used to say things like that, cruelly mocking her gothness. She didn’t care much about their jeers because, well, she did like the weird and bizarre. 

But this...this was saying she enjoyed the meaningless death of someone who had been trying to save her from something she’d recklessly thrown herself into.

“Fuck you,” Sam said heatedly. “This man should never have died. He was doing his job. And the fact that you think I would enjoy seeing his body like this is twisted.” Sam knew she was risking invoking his wrath, but this was going too far for her to just stay quiet.

He was leaning on the opposite wall, his arms crossed, uncaring of the corpses in the wall behind him. Some strands of hair fell into his eyes, but she still felt trapped by his gaze.

The temperature took a nose-dive. Sam exhaled and mist dissipated in front of her face. Her cheeks and fingers started going numb.

“I thought you understood where you stood with me, Samantha,” Phantom said softly. A blue glow was emanating from him. She began shivering uncontrollably.

Then, all of a sudden, the glow of blue was gone and the persistent _cold_ was no longer in the air.

“But the body wasn’t what I was talking about.” He pushed off of the wall and came to stand across from her over the body. “I meant this.”

Sam looked down and jumped back when she saw the police officer’s body glowing.

“What are you doing?” Sam’s voice rose in panic. “What are you doing to him?”

“I’m not doing anything to him,” he snapped. “Just watch.”

The body was still glowing. It was a sickly green. The glow broke away from the body with a terrible, breaking sound. With a wail, the green form rose above the body.

Horrified, Sam watched the green form into the shape of the police officer.

The newly-formed ghost looked down at himself, before his gaze fell upon his old vessel.

The ghost croaked, “What...what is happening?”

“Oh, this can’t be happening,” Sam breathed. While she’d had dozens of encounters with ghosts, this was the first time she had seen a person enter the afterlife. And it was a hundred times worse knowing the circumstances and reasons behind his death and transformation into a ghost.

At the slight noise, the ghost’s head shot up and he zeroed in on her.

“You,” he said slowly in a daze. “I know you.”

With a sick feeling in her stomach, Sam took a step back. The ghost followed. 

“You—you were the one who wouldn’t listen. The one who kept angering him.” At the realization, his hands clenched into fists. He hovered several feet above her.

Instinctively, Sam’s hand went for her pockets. But she was still wearing that stupid dress for the reunion, and her mom had taken the Thermos and her usual weapons straight out of her hands before she’d left home. _Fuck._

“I told you to stop. To go home. Why didn’t you listen to me?” The ghost’s yell echoed with a supernatural high-pitched scream. The lights flickered, and the doors trembled against the latches.

“I’m sorry.” It was the most useless apology she’d ever given, but she didn’t know what else to say. “It should have been me.”

The crazed rage in the ghost’s eyes didn’t fade. It only grew stronger. “I’m gonna do what you did to me. You made me lose everything. _My family._ I’m gonna make you feel what it’s like for your chest to be ripped out!”

In a flash, the ghost was there. His hand shot out and went straight through her chest.

Fire set her lungs alight. She couldn’t breathe. She twitched in place, her vision blurring. Frantically, her hands clawed at the arm in front of her, only to find empty air. 

_Was this how she was going to die?_

A chuckle somehow broke through the pain and panic. A voice, different from the officer. Black spots were appearing in her vision.

“ _Back._ ”

The thing happening in her chest was wrenched away. Sam buckled. She barely caught herself on her knees. The room spun as she desperately tried to fill her lungs with air.

“Well, this was far more entertaining than I’d hoped.”

The lines of the tile slowly stopped spinning. Sam’s lungs ached. She looked up from the ground.

The officer’s ghost was no longer in front of her. Instead, it was pinned across the room from her in the corner, and clearly would have been cowering in terror if the ghost could move.

Between the two of them was the Ghost King. His hair was rippling with the force of his power. The officer cringed in terror, his eyes wide.

“King,” the new ghost said. It wasn’t spoken in the dazed tone of realization he’d had with Sam. No, this was pure ghostly instinct. Minutes old, and the ghost knew what stood before him.

“Your King,” Phantom snarled. The lightbulbs around them shattered at once.

The force keeping the ghost pinned vanished, and the ghost fell forward to bow. “My King,” he babbled mindlessly.

With a sneer, Phantom waved his hand. “Rise.”

The ghost rose immediately. 

Phantom told it. “This is no longer your world. Your home is in the Ghost Zone. If you want my protection, then you must learn the boundaries. Until then, you cannot enter the human world. If you do, then I will destroy you.”

“M-My family…” the ghost moaned.

“You cannot visit them until I say so.” The Ghost King’s voice was steel.

Her lungs still felt battered and bruised, but Sam couldn’t stay silent at that. “Are you serious?” Sam said in disbelief. “You’re going to stop him from seeing his family? That’s so wrong!”

Phantom glared at her, and Sam shrunk back. “You’re seriously going to try to tell me what to do?” 

Despite her insides twisting in panic and uncertainty, Sam held firm. “He deserves to say goodbye.”

“He has an eternity to say goodbye. My word is law, and he will obey me because he knows that.”

Sam’s hands curled into fists. “You...you asshole,” she seethed.

Phantom stared at her for a moment. Then, he burst into laughter. Considering her, he said seriously, “You are, by far, the most suicidal person I’ve ever met. Alive or dead.”

Before she could respond to that, there was a grumble of metal teeth grinding against one another. Someone was inserting a key into the door of the room.

At first, too much had happened for Sam to adequately panic. Then, she realized: a human entering, two volatile ghosts.

She rushed to the door, slamming the door closed.

“What?” she heard a bewildered voice on the other side of the door.

Sam pressed her back to the door just as the person tried to open it again. Based on the expression on Phantom’s face, she could have been wearing a tutu and twerking at how odd she was for keeping them out.

_Please,_ she mouthed at him. It was a plea for a lot of things. _Please don’t bring another innocent person into this. Please don’t kill them. Please don’t force me to see this person become a ghost and rightfully blame me._

Whether he understood what she meant, she didn’t know. His baffled, entertained expression turned into a dark smirk.

But then his head cocked and his eyebrows furrowed, as if he was listening to something far away. He scowled. 

Phantom snapped at the officer’s ghost, “Leave.” The ghost dissolved as if it were a wisp of smoke.

Then, he turned to her. His lips curled into a mischievous smile. 

“Carla,” the voice behind Sam called, “There’s something blocking the door to the morgue.”

Phantom flew to hover inches from her. She stood still, wondering if he was going to break down the door and terrorize the workers.

He leaned to murmur in her ear, “Until next time, my Samantha.”

Then, he faded from view.

She wildly scanned the room, but the only thing still visible was the officer’s corpse.

Was he really gone? Or was he trying to lure her into a false sense of security?

The barreling force behind her knocked her off balance and she tumbled to the floor as the door was kicked open.

Behind her, a voice—Carla—spluttered, “What are you doing here?”

Sam rolled to her back, the skirt of her dress riding up carelessly, taking in the two humans who stood over her with their arms crossed.

A wave of exhaustion hit Sam. “I think I pissed Fate off or something.”

* * *

Eventually, Sam managed to escape the morgue. Sam didn’t exactly remember what she’d said to let her go, but they eventually just told her to never come back. Sam was perfectly fine with that. An hour and a half later, she was walking through her front door.

“I’m home,” Sam announced tiredly. She threw the door shut behind her.

“Samantha, is that you?” her father replied. “Oh, thank heavens.”

Bracing herself for the interrogation of a lifetime, she trudged into the sitting room. She stopped just short of the entryway. 

It wasn’t just her parents there. Two strangers in dark sunglasses and impeccably pressed white suits sat across from them.

The two visitors stood up. “Samantha Manson,” the first one said.

“You are under arrest for attempted murder and violation of the Federal Anti-Ecto Control Act,” the second one finished.

“ _What?_ ” Sam took a step back, only to bump into two more agents behind her. She jerked forward; she hadn’t even heard them approach.

“Samantha,” her mother said tearfully. “What is this? These agents tell us you’ve been consorting with a ghost.”

“Not just any ghost,” her father cut in harshly. “The Ghost King.”

“Mom, Dad, it’s not what you think!”

“Samantha, there were reports that you seemed...intimate...with Phantom.”

“Where is this information coming from?” Sam cried out incredulously.

Agent #1 answered, “Several reliable sources reported that you seduced Phantom into severely injuring more than a dozen of your former classmates, even torturing one.”

_Dammit, Paulina._ “Well, those sources are _wrong—_ ”

There was a beep behind her and one of the agents spoke up, “An ecto-signature over the suspect has been confirmed, sir.”

Her mother choked on a cry. Agent #2 said grimly, “As I suspected. Mr. and Mrs. Manson, with your permission, our agency would like to take your daughter to our state-of-the-art lab to conduct some research on how Phantom managed to influence her. Hopefully, our scientists will find a solution to break his hold on her promptly.”

“I’m not being controlled by Phantom!” Sam denied loudly. But even as she said it, a tiny worm of doubt wriggled damningly in the back of her mind. Could it be that he was messing with her mind? He had promised to break her. How would she know if her mind had been altered?

“You have our permission, Agent,” her father said.

Focus snapping back to her current problems at hand, she shouted, “I’m over eighteen! I’m a legal adult, and you don’t have a say in what happens to me!”

“According to the Federal Anti-Ecto Control Act, any decision of those who are suspected of ghostly influence is not legally valid. Their former parents or guardians regain legal authority over the suspect.”

Sam couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Suddenly, her arms were twisted behind her back, and handcuffs were tightened to the point of pain around her wrists.

“No! Let me go! I invoke my right to a lawyer!”

Agent #1 sneered at her. “You don’t get a lawyer when you’re contaminated with ecto-energy.”

Sam’s mother clutched a handkerchief to her chest. “Your father and I will make sure that you receive the best treatment available, Sammykins. We love you!”

With that, her parents let her get dragged away to some unknown government lab. She’d be poked and prodded like a lab rat. Who knew when they’d let her go. If they ever let her go.

_Fuck that._

Ten feet away from the unmarked car the two junior agents were obviously about to haul her into, she struck. She elbowed the guy to her left in the nose. There was a sharp crack, and the man yelled. She was already down and twisting, her leg knocking the other off his feet. The sound of the second agent’s head hitting concrete had a shiver run over her skin. Forcing her reaction down, she sent a quick punch to the first agent’s head, and he was out too.

Fully aware that the senior agents still talking to her parents would be on her in seconds, Sam snatched the keys to her handcuffs from one of the unconscious agents and took off.

* * *

Sam didn’t stop running until she was at least two miles away from her house. She hid in a secluded alleyway and leaned against the brick wall, panting hard. 

She was fortunate that she was generally fit and had the stamina to run a couple miles without pause; otherwise, the Guys in White would’ve recovered quickly enough to pursue and recapture her. She was also lucky that they had only sent in four agents. They likely hadn’t expected much of a fight from her, regardless of whether her mind had been manipulated by a ghost. If things weren’t so royally fucked up, she’d be insulted by how much they’d estimated her.

Of course, she now had to face the fact that she was a fugitive. The Guys in White was a government division; that meant they had the same communication and travel surveillance capabilities as the CIA. Though not proven, there was even a strong likelihood that the GiW had fewer legal restrictions than the CIA and the NSA; there had been a lot of talk by politicians and Congress members that the GiW was dealing with ghosts and therefore needed stronger authority with fewer checks and bureaucracy impeding its work. Sam had done a paper on it in 11th grade history class, arguing that giving GiW such unrestricted power was dangerous and ripe in its potential for abuse. The argument came from her own personal experience with the GiW.

She was facing the cold, hard reality of that danger again.

She turned off her phone. She couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t track her. Nor could she trust that her parents wouldn’t hand her over to the GiW as soon as they knew where she was. She’d never really had friends in high school, and Tucker was several thousands of miles away. She refused to risk those assholes hounding her grandmother. They were probably watching, expecting her to run there. The only non-Manson people in Amity Park she trusted were Jack and Maddy Fenton, but she had promised herself that she would never do anything to sic the GiW on the Fentons; the Fentons had barely survived the last time the GiW had set their sights on them.

She was alone in this.

Sam inhaled deeply. When she sighed, a steely will straightened her spine.

The Guys in White were after her for something she didn’t do? Fine. Fuck them for being so incompetent that they couldn’t tell the difference between someone who was possessed and who wasn’t. She’d thought they would have learned after the last time that this had happened.

When the plant ghost Undergrowth invaded Amity Park and took control of everyone, it took months before the Guys in White had stopped hounding and arresting everyone who had been possessed.

For Sam, she was lucky that her lawyer fended off the GiW from having her committed after a year of legal battles. She refused to go through that again.

Thankfully, she was a lot more prepared than she had been four years ago. In her spare time, she read about any and all documents and statutes involving ghosts, proposed or previously implemented. She was even pre-law at Berkeley, fully intending on protecting the innocently accused after graduation, like her lawyer had done for her. And, as a precaution against something going horribly wrong with her parents or the Guys in White came knocking, she had secretly bought an apartment for herself. Her name wasn’t attached to it at all, so there was no way that someone could find her if she didn’t want to be found. It had cost a small fortune, but thankfully she’d come into her inheritance as soon as she’d turned eighteen. In other words, she was filthy rich.

There had been moments when she’d thought she was being overcautious and paranoid but, in this one moment, she couldn’t have been more thankful.

A plan settled in her head. She would sneak to her off-the-grid apartment. She would contact her old lawyer and begin her legal defense for her rights. And then she could put all of this fucked-up mess behind her.

* * *

Sam sighed heavily as she surveyed the piles of books and paper in front of her. Getting to her apartment undetected had been surprisingly easy, as had contacting her lawyer using a burner phone. Building up a legal case proving that she was of sound mind and uninfluenced by the Ghost King was another matter.

Sam rubbed at her temples. While there had been proof and eyewitness accounts that she’d served as Undergrowth’s “daughter,” it had been straightforward to argue that her actions hadn’t been under her control, and that she was now free of any ghosts’ influence after it was all over. The reason it had taken a year for the legal battle to be officially closed was because the GiW were just assholes. But, in this case with the Ghost King, most of the established law went out the window, because all of it was under the assumption that the ghost involved wasn’t the most powerful ghost in existence. The extent of Phantom’s powers were completely unknown by humans, which meant that, in the eyes of the law, Phantom could really have done anything imaginable he wanted to her. 

In other words, she was in legal uncharted waters. And it was all because the ghost she’d decked was the fucking Ghost King.

Sam tugged at her hair in frustration. She couldn't loosen her jaw, and she could already sense an impending headache. She strongly suspected that her lawyer had been close to telling her to just turn herself in. She knew for sure that, if they couldn’t find anything good, her lawyer would actually tell her. She hated that paranoia, that wary sense that the rope had already been knotted and there was nothing she could do to stop it from closing around her neck.

“What are you doing?” a voice asked curiously.

Sam knew she made a noise, but she wasn’t sure whether it was a yell, scream, or something in the middle. She instinctively twisted to punch the intruder.

A cool, gloved hand deftly caught her fist. Phantom grinned at her. “Someone’s happy to see me.”

“You—” Sam tried to lurch away, but Phantom tightened his grip on her fist. Sam kept trying to break away. “How _the fuck_ did you find me?”

“One way or another,” Phantom said vaguely. He scanned the apartment. “This isn’t your house.”

“No, it—” she stopped herself. While she doubted that Phantom would prance off and tattle on her to the Guys in White, she’d been surprised by a lot of things these past few days. “None of your business,” she snapped. 

“You made it my business after you decided to slap me in front of forty people.”

“I wouldn’t have slapped you if I’d _known_ you were the Ghost King,” Sam said petulantly and was too tired to care about her tone.

“That’s right, I’ve been meaning to ask: how the fuck did you not recognize me?” He still didn’t sound angry, he just sounded genuinely curious. Sam’s cheeks burned red.

“The last time anyone reported a sighting of you was a year and a half ago. Also, the pictures we have of you are a little...blurry.”

He snorted in disbelief. “I’ve seen all the pictures of me, and they were clear enough that you could make out my features. Also, I’m pretty sure the amount of drawings that have been done make up for the lack of good photos. Though some of them are hilariously off.”

Sam’s frustration and stress and exhaustion burned the last of her patience in a snuff. The last time she'd slept was before all this mess, back when her biggest worries were which classes she would take next semester and whether she would survive living with her parents for a couple months. “Yes, okay, fine, I don’t know why then. I just didn’t recognize you. I’m a bad ghost hunter. Not that it matters now, given that I’m a fugitive.” She would probably need to minimize her contact with ghosts to prove that she was influence-free. Ugh. She loved ghost hunting so much that she wasn’t sure if she could refrain for long.

“Fugitive?” Phantom repeated. He floated over her to look at the papers she’d strewn across the coffee table. “Why are you looking at human laws about ghost and human interactions?”

“None of your business,” she said quickly.

He scowled, his earlier good mood disappearing behind stormy clouds. “You say you’re a fugitive, which is why you’re not at home with your parents. This apartment is completely bare besides the necessary furniture, which means that this is a place you rarely go to. Which means that this is some kind of hideout.”

She started snatching up the open papers on the table to remove his access to peruse. “Look, either get on with it and kill me, or just leave me alone so I can solve my problems.”

The apartment darkened and he seemed to grow bigger, looming over her with the tail where his legs should be flicking dangerously. His wrathful eyes glowered brighter in the darkness. The Ghost King made a wide sweep of his arm, and shadows of darkness dripped off his fingertips. They twisted and writhed, hungrily reaching towards her. He spoke menacingly, “Don’t fucking treat me as if I’m this little waif who you can fucking order around.”

Sam’s heartbeat was like a horse’s frantic gallop. She nodded once. 

Phantom’s dark aura still twisted dangerously around him. “Tell me why you’re here.”

“The Guys in White, the US’s ghost hunter division, suspects that I’m under the influence of the Ghost King.” The words fell woodenly from her mouth. “They revoked my rights and, with my parents’ permission, dragged me out of my home to be interrogated and tested like a lab rat. They clearly had no intention of letting me walk free again, so I overpowered my escorts and escaped here. That’s really everything, I swear.”

His eyes were still narrowed. Distrusting. “What are the papers for?”

Her hands reflexively clenched said papers. She’d almost dropped them. “I’m trying to build a legal defense to show that I’m not possessed by a ghost. By you. I have a lawyer who’s doing her own work but, since I’m a fugitive, the only thing I can really do is sit around on my ass and help research ghost law. Otherwise, I’ll be chewing this place into bits from frustration and boredom.”

At the mention of chewing, her stomach decided to get a mind of its own and growl. _Loudly._

There was a pause, then Phantom sniggered. His presence seemed to recede to calmer levels, and she saw the shadows return to him. Sam remained tense and wary. “I’d forgotten about humans and their need for food. When was the last time you’ve eaten?”

Sam suspiciously stayed rooted in place. The Ghost King’s wild mood swings were giving her a solid case of whiplash, and she didn’t think she could afford to get comfortable around him again. “Breakfast yesterday morning,” Sam said reluctantly. She’d left a food bar in the back pocket of her discarded jeans when she’d changed for the reunion, and she hadn’t had time to eat after being sent to the reunion and then the morgue. Thank fuck she had some spare clothes here, or she’d have been stuck in that reunion dress. She felt way more comfortable in shorts and a T-shirt.

“You haven’t had anything since you got here?”

Sam shook her head. “I hadn’t been too concerned about stocking up this place because there’s a grocery store a block away from here. I couldn’t come up with a reason why I wouldn’t be able to go to the store if I needed to come here. Or just get it delivered.”

Phantom sank to the floor and landed on fully formed feet. “Then let’s go and get something to eat,” he suggested. He held his hand out to her.

Sam thought she’d misheard him. “What?”

He made an insistent motion for her to take his hand. “We’re going to a restaurant and getting you something to eat. I haven’t been at a restaurant since the Box Ghost decided to lock my lieutenant in a meat box.”

Sam cautiously set aside her legal research and took his hand. “Just to eat?” Sam ventured. “And you’re coming with me?”

“I won’t random people on the street or restaurant, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Sam _was_ worried about that. “I can’t go out in public right now or the Guys in White will find me—”

Phantom countered. “We’ll get you a disguise, it’ll be fine—”

“—and,” Sam bravely continued, “I don’t think I’m going to be eating much if I walk into a restaurant and they see I have _the Ghost King_ right next to me.”

Wordlessly, Phantom raised his hands away from either side of himself. A sharp crackle of energy leapt from his body, convalescing to form a ring around his waist. The ring split into two, one traveling up his body and the other traveling down. When they finished, Phantom looked like a regular human guy.

Sam looked up and down at the changes in shock. Phantom’s hair had changed from a snowy white to raven black. A white T-shirt with red lining the hem, a pair of faded jeans, and battered sneakers had replaced his silver and black suit. His eyes were now a cool, soft blue.

He looked...utterly and completely human. And that freaked Sam out more than anything she’d encountered in the past forty-eight hours.

“H—How did you do that?” Sam stammered.

Phantom gave her a look. “Disguising myself as a human is mind-numbingly easy on the scale of things I can do, Samantha.”

Looking pretty pleased at her agape mouth, he gestured towards the exit. “After you.”

* * *

She needed to stop getting so distracted at the sight of a human Phantom. She was supposed to be in incognito mode in this brightly-colored blouse and trousers she’d guiltily stolen from a clothes hanger in exchange for leaving several hundred dollars in the windowsill. Instead, she’d almost walked into a lamppost twice because she’d been too busy staring at him. 

_Get a fucking grip, Manson_ , Sam scolded herself. _Focus. You can’t let your guard down around him._ This ghost had already threatened her so many times that she was beginning to lose count. His moods changed as quickly as a chameleon’s coloring. She was still under very real danger, and it was important that she was at her most alert and wary. She’d literally been threatened by him ten minutes ago.

Which was why she didn’t understand why her thoughts kept on straying. Instead of searching for potential threats or ways to escape, she would focus on the way Phantom shoved his hands into his pockets. His hair gleamed differently black than when it was a ghostly white. Seeing him walk was odd; she was used to seeing him float in some way. The confidence in his walk was the only thing that felt familiar. Even pretending to be a human, Phantom could not fully hide that he was the most powerful creature there, and that he knew it. 

It hit her like lightning, leaving her choking on air. _Fuck, am I attracted to Phantom right now?_

Desperately, she tried to backtrack. She hadn’t slept for well over twenty-four hours. The sleep deprivation must have been getting to her. That, and Phantom was wearing a human disguise. She was just attracted to the disguise he’d put on. The appearance he’d transformed into was undeniably hot, and her brain was so exhausted it had ignored that the horrifying creature under it.

_Just get through this_ , Sam bargained. _Get through this alive, don’t do anything stupid, and then you can sleep and forget that you ever thought about this._

“You’re quiet,” Phantom commented.

The last thing she needed was for him to know she was attracted to him, no matter what form he was in. “Just trying not to raise people’s suspicions,” Sam muttered.

Phantom chuckled. “You look way too tense. Someone is going to get suspicious if you don't relax.”

Sure enough, a random passerby gave them an odd look as he passed. Sam internally cursed and did everything she could to relax her shoulders. 

“Now you just look constipated,” Phantom said gleefully.

Sam shot him a dirty look before she could catch herself. Phantom tsked at her and draped an arm around her shoulders as if they were two humans on a date. Sam fought the urge to shrug it off. 

_Just get through this_ , Sam told herself. _He'll leave soon, and then you can scream and cry and do whatever the hell you want. Just get through this._

And then, to her horror, a scream cut through the stillness of the night.

They stopped at the mouth of a dark alleyway. Next to a dumpster, Sam could barely make out the forms in the shadows. Sam expected a ghost to be tormenting humans, or a human to be attacking another human. Instead, Sam horrifyingly saw the ghost twist upon itself with another scream. A flutter of red light crawled over the ghost. 

It was only because she’d read a book from the Fenton’s library about historical ghost hunting that she knew what was happening.

Two humans had found a rather lethal strain of blood blossoms...and were gleefully testing the strain on whatever poor spirit they’d cornered.

Sam’s heart clenched in horror at the scene and the screams emanating from the ghost. Some humans were tiny, microscopic scum. Even as much as she hated ghosts, she never wished that kind of torment on her worst enemy.

Apparently, Phantom agreed with her stance on the subject.

Sam had thought she’d seen what the Ghost King was like when he was really angry. She’d been wrong.

A black, cloying kind of shadow raked across skin. She could feel its need to pierce deep into her skin, to shred everything apart molecule by molecule. Then, the wrathful presence moved on. She was not its target. Sam nearly sobbed in relief.

When her eyes cleared, Phantom’s human disguise was almost entirely shredded. He burned in fury, his hair rippling and Sam could feel a crippling horror when she looked into his eyes. Sam shrunk from his arm still around her shoulder, but he held her still. 

Guttural, wailing screams that weren’t the ghost pierced the night. Sam tried to catch a glimpse of the humans through the black, couldn’t, and was glad. Shame flooded into her.

And then Phantom settled next to her, his human disguise perfectly reapplied, and pressed her forward to continue moving. The dark, bloodthirsty monster she’d caught a glimpse of was sated. He had the look a lion had when it licked its bloody paws after a fresh kill.

“Come on, time to eat,” Phantom said, and Sam, shaken, let him guide her on.

The terrible screams still echoed through the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you lovelies next week.


	3. yes & no

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case none of you have guessed yet, I've named all the chapter titles based on songs that have lyrics that match the chapter, or the sound of the song just matches the mood of the story. If anyone has any song recs that they feel match PG, please let me know!
> 
> Also new scene in this chapter 👀 Hope you enjoy!!

“What can I getcha, hun?” the Nasty Gal waitress drawled.

Sam’s absolutely ravenous stomach warred against the sickening screams that worked to kill her appetite. Even still, she robotically requested, “Can I get a tofu soy burger and a chocolate chunk oat milkshake?”

The waitress jotted it down. “And for you, sugar?” she asked the Ghost King.

Phantom, disguised as a human, took up the entire seat of his side of the booth. His arms splayed out across the back of the seat. “Nothing for me,” was all he said.

The waitress noted nothing amiss, just recited the standard, “Your order will be out in a few.”

After the waitress left, Phantom complained, “I can’t believe you chose this place to eat.”

Sam picked at the thread of her shirt. The smell of grease permeated the air. “This Nasty Burger hasn’t had working security cameras for over a year,” Sam muttered. “Plus, it’s good food.” This was also the least visited restaurant in the area, because for some reason this particular Nasty Burger location could not for the life of itself pass all the health codes. Sam was fairly certain that the Nasty Burger was greasing a few health officials’ palms to keep this place open. Even still, there were far fewer people in the line of fire. If it came to that.

Phantom hummed doubtfully. Strands of hair fell into his eyes, and he impatiently pushed it out of the way. It was such a human gesture and it had Sam’s cheeks coloring slightly. 

Angry at herself, Sam gulped a long draw of water. Thankfully, the waitress came with the food just then. Her body’s need for food emerged victorious against the earlier horrors, and she started to dig in.

“What was that you ordered?” Phantom asked suddenly. “That burger thing.”

“Oh,” Sam tilted the burger so he could see its contents. “It’s a tofu soy melt; it doesn’t have any meat in it.”

He cocked his head, exposing the sharp lines of his jaw and neck. “Do you mean like a veggie burger?”

“Not exactly,” she said between bites. “I’m an ultra-recyclo vegetarian, so I have a few more dietary restrictions. My friend Tucker likes to describe it as I won’t eat anything with a face on it.”

In the back of her head, she expected him to give the same reactions she normally got when she shared her diet: disgust, the intrusive and rude questions. Even the: _are you sure you don’t want a bite of mine? It tastes way better with meat in it._

So she was caught off guard when he said, “Huh.” Not in a judgmental tone, but like he’d just found another piece of the puzzle and he was pleased it fit.

She didn’t really know what to do with that, so she shoved another bite of tofu into her mouth. As she chewed, she watched Phantom gaze lazily at the other customers, who chatted with each other as they ate, completely unaware of the danger in their presence. She envied them. 

Soon enough, Sam popped the last bite of burger in her mouth. She felt uncomfortably stuffed at the sudden influx of food. 

“Better?” He asked her. Sam gave a quick nod.

“Why the sudden concern about my food intake?” she asked cautiously. It was odd for a ghost to insist on her eating enough food.

He shrugged. “You seemed stressed, and I was curious where you would go for food when you're a fugitive in your own world.”

Sam scowled at the reminder. She was then uncomfortably reminded about what had happened during their trip to the Nasty Burger. She had no doubt those people had suffered horribly, but she also remembered the screams emanating from the ghost that they had cornered. She had no idea how to feel about what had happened.

“I didn't even realize that blood blossoms are still around,” Sam muttered. It was a relatively rare substance that most humans didn’t know about.

Thankfully, Phantom seemed unperturbed. “I’ve worked hard to destroy any trace of blood blossoms in the human world. There’s even a reward if it’s proven that a ghost destroyed more than a hectare of it, or stopped any individual involved in deliberately growing the plant.”

No wonder blood blossoms were so rare. The plant was considered an endangered species by every international organization that dealt with environmental conservation. 

“I’m curious how those humans manage to find some,” Phantom continued. “I’ll find out soon enough.”

Sam shivered.

The waitress reappeared and collected Sam’s empty tray. “Anything else I can get you two?”

“We’re fine,” Phantom said. Sam shot the woman a weak smile.

After the waitress left, Sam asked, “Out of curiosity, how often do you use this”—Sam gestured at Phantom’s human appearance—“to wander around the human world?”

“Oh, every day. You didn’t know that I’m the US President?” At Sam’s alarmed look, Phantom laughed. “I’m joking. I don’t have to use it often. I don’t really need to be in the human world for very long, especially in an unrecognizable form. It does come in handy sometimes.”

Sam didn’t doubt it. As far as she knew, the human world had no idea that the Ghost King could walk around without anyone noticing. She was sure the news would send the public into a state of absolute panic. If he had been serious about being the President, the world would likely dissolve into absolute chaos.

“What are the odds of you escaping the wrath of the Guys in White?”

Sam frowned. “Why do you want to know?” 

Phantom said innocently, “I’m curious about human legal procedure.”

Sam grimaced. Her eye caught on a smudge on the table, and her nail absently scraped over the mark. “I’m not sure,” she said reluctantly. “There isn’t a lot of legal precedent on ghostly influence, and the autonomy of humans after encounters with ghosts. Things get more murky when beings like the Ghost King get thrown into the picture.”

“I defy most rules and stereotypes,” Phantom agreed smugly.

Sam fought not to roll her eyes. Sam scratched at the smudge even harder. 

“Well well well,” a nasally voice interrupted. “I didn't expect to see _you_ here.”

_Oh, for fuck’s sake._

Paulina stood at the end of the booth, one thumb casually hooking into the belt loop of her low-cut jeans and a simpering smile on her face. 

“Oh, my,” Sam's former classmate cooed. “Am I interrupting a _date_?”

Sam’s jaw clenched so hard that her teeth ached. “Paulina, what are you doing here?”

“Uh, this is my regular Nasty Burger. Or have you already forgotten?” Pauline considered Phantom with carnal appreciation. _Oh no._ “Sam, you should introduce me to your friend.”

“Yes, Sam,” Phantom said, matching Paulina’s smirk and not breaking eye contact with the newcomer. “You should introduce me.”

Sam scrambled for an appropriate name for the Ghost King. “Paulina, this is...uh, R-Roy. Roy, this is Paulina.”

Paulina bit her lip. “So nice to meet you, Roy.”

“Likewise.”

Still not breaking eye contact with Phantom, Paulina said to Sam, “Dash is still pissed for what happened at the reunion. I’m honestly surprised that the Guys in White haven’t thrown you in a hole somewhere. Though with your family’s money, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Paulina didn’t know that there was a manhunt for Sam. Small blessings. It meant Sam didn’t have to worry about Paulina running and ratting on Sam. Again. “That’s me, always throwing around my family’s money and influence to get what I want,” she said sarcastically. “Gotta say I appreciate you telling the general public that I ordered the Ghost King around to hurt my former classmates.”

The tone seemed to go completely over Paulina’s head, nor did she seem to hear Sam’s pointed remark. Paulina traced over Phantom’s human disguise slowly and deliberately. She took in the dark, messy hair, the sharp jawline, and the strong eyebrows over piercing blue eyes. Sam knew that Paulina was picking up on the dangerous aura that Phantom exuded, and Paulina was attracted like a moth to a light. Paulina wanted him. Badly. “Are you from around here?” Paulina asked him.

“Just visiting.”

Paulina leaned over the table, the neckline of her shirt pulling distractingly low. “Well, I’m happy to show you around Amity Park if you’re interested. I could take you to so many places that would blow your mind.”

Sam didn’t know whether to scream or shrivel out of horror and humiliation at witnessing Paulina Sanchez flirting with the Ghost King. The flirting was also just so painfully corny, it made Sam want to vomit.

“I’ll keep that in mind. But right now, I have some business with Samantha to take care of.” Phantom’s eyes finally broke away from Paulina’s. His eyes, hot with promise, settled on Sam. Sam’s insides squirmed. 

Paulina seemed disappointed that “Roy” wasn’t immediately ditching Sam for her. Even still, it was not in Paulina’s nature to chase after guys. That was _their_ job, not hers. “I’ll see you around then, Roy.” With one last sultry look, Paulina sashayed away.

With Paulina finally gone, Sam exhaled and slumped against the booth. “Trust Paulina to hit on the Ghost King,” she muttered. “And _in front of me,_ thinking that you were my date.”

“She was the one screaming in terror at the reunion, right?”

“Yeah. I’m lucky that she didn’t know that the Guys in White are after me.” Sam guessed it had something to do with her parents, who probably weren’t keen on having their daughter’s wanted poster everywhere.

“Wasn’t she also with that blond idiot who wanted to punch you?”

“They’ve been in an on-again off-again relationship since the beginning of high school. Paulina always dumps Dash whenever she catches someone hotter.”

Phantom quirked an eyebrow and flashed her a shit-eating grin. “You think I’m hot?”

Sam choked on some water. “W-What?” Sam coughed. Her cheeks burned. “N-No, I was talking about Paulina. She was clearly eye-fucking you. Well, she was eye-fucking your disguise, really. I’ve seen it happen before, which is how I know.” Fuck, she was rambling and someone needed to stop her.

Phantom, who Sam was learning was a shit when he wanted to be, was still grinning. “Right, you definitely cleared that up.”

“Oh, shut up,” she muttered halfheartedly. “It was clear you weren’t insulted by her looking.” Not that she cared. She should be concerned about Phantom seducing Paulina into some dangerous situation.

Phantom didn’t say anything, but the smirk on his face still made Sam want to throttle him. He moved his arms from their resting place on the booth, leaning forward on the table. It was utterly unfair how intense his eyes were when they settled on her. Her heart did something weird in her chest. “Oh, by the way,” Phantom said casually to her. “You don’t have to worry about the Guys in White anymore.”

That had any thoughts about Phantom and the way he was looking at her screeching to a halt. “Wait, what do you mean?” A smirk on his face, he winked at her, then disappeared from view. “Phantom!”

But Sam was alone in the Nasty Burger.

* * *

Sam returned to her apartment in a daze. She almost didn’t believe what had just happened. Strolling to the Nasty Burger with Phantom looking deceptively and dangerously human was almost too surreal to be true. During her walk back, she suspiciously looked at every shadow, at every corner, for some hint that he was there. She hated the crawling feeling of fear over her arms and neck.

Breath held in dread and anticipation, she had passed the alleyway where they had encountered the humans with blood blossoms. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting—the mutilated remains of the humans? Police cars strewn about and taping up the scene? It was almost worse to glance into the alleyway and not find anything there, just a silent and empty alleyway.

Now back in her apartment, uneasy and chilled, Sam shrugged off her jacket and tossed it on the kitchen counter stool. She turned the TV on and pulled the blanket draped over the couch. Wrapping the blanket around her, she sat cross-legged on the couch, trying to warm up.

The news was on, covering a feel-good filler story about local grocery stores and animal shelters. A bunch of shots of adorable puppies were on the screen.

Sam barely listened. What happened to those two humans? Were they even still alive? Should she notify the police? She was a wanted fugitive now, and if she tried to contact the authorities, she would paint a large, neon target on her back. And what could the police do? The two humans had faced the wrath of the Ghost King; if they weren’t already dead, then they very likely would be soon, and there was nothing anyone could do to save them.

Sam shivered and pulled the blanket around her tighter.

It was odd, seeing the same being who had eyed her across the booth with such intense—almost carnal—interest as the being who had engulfed two people doing terrible things in horrible, bloodthirsty darkness. Sam hated to admit that the human disguise that Phantom had worn like a second skin was devastatingly effective at disarming her. She didn’t know what to do with the fact that Sam had reacted with something that was definitely not fear to the sight of Phantom in a disguise. 

“This just in,” the news broadcaster cut into Sam’s musings, “we have received word that the Ghost King has gone on a rampage at the headquarters of the Guys in White. We have received unconfirmed footage of the incident. Please be advised that the footage is violent and graphic in nature.”

Sam straightened, her eyes fixed on the TV. The screen cut to a blurry, shaky recording of smoke and debris and, oh shit, was that a body? The camera panned wildly and, when it settled, Sam could see a distant shot of Phantom’s back. He held a person wearing a white suit at the throat, and the human kicked his legs wildly in terror. Then, the Ghost King threw the human to the ground carelessly, and then he was gone. The camera jerked and moved frantically, trying to get a shot of something. Then, a loud, haunting wail filled the speakers of the TV. The camera shook and trembled in the noise, and then the feed cut dramatically.

“Oh fuck,” Sam uttered through numb lips.

The television cut back to the news anchor, who was clearly shaken at the video. “Details are still coming in with regards to the level of destruction and number of casualties, but an anonymous source has informed us that the Ghost King has threatened the entire destruction of their organization if they continue to hunt a certain individual. According to our source, the Ghost King stated, and I quote: ‘if you do not leave Samantha Manson alone, if you keep on hunting her, or even try to watch her, I will kill each and every one of you and burn this entire hole to the ground.’”

Sam couldn’t move. Didn’t want to move. She was pretty sure she stopped breathing.

“Our people are moving onto the scene, and we will hear from them soon, but in the meantime, the big question we have to answer is: who is Samantha Manson? And why did the Ghost King threaten a United States federal agency for their protection? Stay tuned as more details come in.”

_Oh, fuck._

* * *

After so many years of wishing people would leave her alone, this reality had not been what she had in mind.

After returning to her secret apartment and turning the TV on, she no longer had to worry about the Guys in White; they were still desperately trying to recover after the “run in” with Phantom, and even if they did reorganize enough to be able to go after her again, Phantom’s threats were petrifying enough for the government to avoid her for the rest of her life, no matter what Sam or her parents did. Their headquarters had been decimated into rubble, the government was still sifting through the remains for survivors, and Congress was in an uproar about what happened. And so Sam was now considered to be an adult again with full legal rights, and her parents could no longer legally touch her. 

And it was all Phantom’s doing. But her life would never be the same.

The news had broken live that the headquarters for the Guys in White had been decimated by Phantom, and Phantom’s threats had somehow leaked to the press. Specifically, who Phantom demanded never be tracked or hunted by the Guys in White. It did not take long for news outlets to find out who exactly Samantha Manson was. Within half an hour, her face and name got splashed on every news site, magazine, and online article. Twitter and Facebook were going ballistic. But the real, non-digital changes were the worst. Eyes constantly tracked her in public, no matter where she went. Whispers were always at the edge of earshot. Crowds parted a path for her whenever she had to walk through. The only reason why Sam’s neighbors tolerated her was because the media had mercifully not found out where she was living, which meant that the public eye had not descended upon the apartment complex. But Sam had to ignore the constant barrage of messages from her parents, who were frantic with worry and panic at what was going on and where she was, but she didn’t respond because she didn’t even know what to tell them. Sam had caught them doing an interview on national news, the pair perfectly coiffed and her mother holding a lacy handkerchief. Both of them professed their heartbreak and worry over their only daughter being corrupted by the awful Ghost King. Of course they had to keep up their public appearance, Sam thought bitterly.

She may not have to be worried about being arrested and being deprived of her rights as a US citizen, but she knew she was being monitored, even if she couldn’t always identify where or how.

Any dreams she had for herself had crashed and burned in a swarm of green fire.

_And it was all Phantom’s fault._

She never would’ve gotten on the radar of the Guys in White, been suspected of being sympathetic to ghosts by her parents and the entire world, and unable to even get ice cream without everyone holding their breath around her, if he hadn’t been stalking her in the first place. But then, if he hadn’t intervened, she would also likely be suffering under extremely unethical testing right now. But the reason why people wanted to submit her to unethical testing in the first place was because he wouldn’t _fucking leave her alone_. And the cycle of blame continued.

Glaring at the cashier’s fearful, stuttering goodbye, she snatched her change and bags and stalked out of the grocery store. Wanting out of the public eye as much as possible, she turned into an abandoned alley, the beginning of her new route to her apartment. Her body felt like a live wire, constantly on edge for signs of paparazzi or stalkers trying to follow her.

Sam had once thought she would never hate a ghost more than Undergrowth. Now, she would’ve done anything to have her worst problem be the genocidal plant ghost.

She wanted to punch Phantom and that all-too-familiar smirk on his face. She wanted to make him regret ever deciding to interfere in her life. She wished that he had never reappeared and kept on showing up when she least expected it.

Speaking of the devil…

A tingle flooded her insides, spreading out to trail over her skin. Sam sighed and halted.

“I know you’re there. What do you want now?”

Phantom made a noise of approval. He turned visible next to her. “You’ve gotten better at sensing me.” He started playing with her hair. The close contact sent a tingle down her spine. “You’ll make a great hunter soon. One of the best.”

She slapped his hand away. “I asked you what you wanted,” she said frostily.

Her attitude rolled off of him easily. The more she was in his presence, he was becoming less and less volatile whenever she sassed him. Unfortunately, that meant he would just draw closer to her. The less afraid she became of him, the less afraid he was of closing the distance between them. Which made him even more dangerous; his close proximity scattered her senses and diverted her attention.

“I think I’ve been pretty clear about what I want.”

“Um, have you heard anything about personal space?” Sam asked sharply. “I _will_ start wearing the Specter Deflector.”

“That stuff doesn’t work on me,” he dismissed.

_Ugh_ , he was _so_ infuriating! A culmination of the dozens of rants about him ran through her head. “Well, maybe I should call the Fentons and have them make me one that does.”

He frowned at that. “You wouldn’t.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at that. Wow, after all this time, he didn’t know her at all, did he? “Try me.”

Phantom gave her his usual piercing stare, but grudgingly backed off.

Guess he did know her a little.

“You know, you’re way more transparent than you think you are.”

Or…not.

“What are you talking about?” she said in exasperation.

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he gave her a look that was becoming all too familiar. That look that was all focus, all intensity, like if he stared hard enough he would look into her soul. “You try so hard to remain distant from the world because it’s always let you down. Again and again, you’ve had to face problems by yourself, and you’ve convinced yourself that that’s the way you want it. But deep down, you’re lonely.”

Sam felt like he had stolen the breath from her lungs. That look reminded her far too much of sitting across from him in that Nasty Burger, how her body had heated in response to his stare. And, with something akin to panic, she realized that her body was reacting the exact same way to Phantom, his human disguise nowhere in sight. His words felt like they were stripping the walls around her. Within days, it felt like he already held the keys to her soul. 

That scared the shit out of her. Desperate to recover her equilibrium, to deny him, she let anger flood over her mess of emotions. “Who do you think you are?” she snapped, stalking over to him.

Phantom remained aloof in the face of her fury. He was pale and glowing, and the streetlights cut over his eyes, as if it shied away from the red in his irises. “I am the Ghost King,” he responded simply.

“Oh please,” she shot back heatedly. “All you’ve done is follow me around. I’ve tried and tried to shoo you away, to send you back to where you belong— _the Ghost Zone_ —and leave me where I belong: _the human world_. I did what you wanted, went to morgues and restaurants and put the people around me in danger again and again. I even put strangers in danger now, after what you did to the Guys in White. At this point, I think I’m better off doing everyone a favor and jumping off a cliff than dealing with you again.”

That seemed to get to him. His eyes sharpened, and the shadows around him seemed to lengthen. “Don’t speak to me like that.”

“Or what,” she challenged him tauntingly, “you’ll glare at me menacingly? Remind me for the thirtieth time that you’re the Ghost King? Say ‘Don’t cross me again, or I’ll make sure you scream?’”

His eyes began to smolder ember red. Suddenly, he was back to eliminating the distance between them. “Maybe I will,” Phantom said darkly. His ghostly aura seeped into her, and the chill ached all the way down to her bones.

“I hate you,” Sam spat. “That’s right, I said it! Fuck whatever ghostly shit you’re gonna do to make me regret my life decisions. You’ve completely ruined my life! I may have had some complaints about my life before, but at least I could walk through the streets without being gawked at in fear! And for what, your brief entertainment?”

“Congratulations, you finally got it!” he snarled back. “It took you long enough. I was wondering if you were really as smart as you thought.”

Sam could literally feel her eye twitch. “Well, now that the jig’s up, you can finally leave now! Good riddance.”

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want!” he snarled right in her face.

“I’d rather jump off a cliff than give _you_ what _you_ want! You don’t own me. No matter what you do, I’ll never be yours.”

They met in a clash of teeth and tongue, Sam’s frustration and fear giving her strength to tug fistfuls of silvery hair, urging him closer. He gave as good as he got, one hand at the nape of her neck, and the other curling on the inside of her thigh, pulling her closer to him. She bit his lip in retaliation, and he growled in response before her back was suddenly scraping against the wall, her body trapped between the brick and the icy chill of his body. She shuddered in pleasure at the force of it. She gasped for air between kisses, and he took full advantage, taking control and entering her mouth with his tongue until she was twisting against him. She dove her fingers into his hair, tugging at the strands. He broke the kiss, and he moved down to explore the pulse point at her throat. He mapped the contours of her neck, categorizing every gasp and clench of her fingers. He licked one particularly sensitive spot that made her whine, and then he was closing his teeth around it. “Fuck!” she gasped, raking her nails down the back of his neck and shoulders. With quick movements, she slid her hips up against him, the friction and the hardness wrenching an almost-whine from her throat. He swore under his breath.

The sensations were sizzling across her nerves, and her heartbeat raced in her ears. She needed more, so much more, and she needed him to give it to her _now_.

Harsh awareness slapped clarity into her. She jerked his lips away from his. Her hands pushed at his shoulders. “No!”

Phantom broke away sharply, shooting back until his back hit the opposite wall. Her body felt the loss of contact acutely. Stunned, Sam couldn’t help but note his swollen lips and tousled hair and wild, dark irises.

“What...what the fuck did you do to me?” She said with panting breaths.

“Me?” he said roughly. “The hell does this have to do with me?”

“You’re the Ghost King,” she said accusingly, the panic and anger and horror bubbling inside of her as she realized what they’d done. “You’re the one with unlimited power and the ability to make anyone do whatever he wants. So whatever you’re doing, stop it right now, or I swear that I will make you pay for it!”

Her words infuriated him. “Don’t talk to me like that,” he said dangerously. The street lights above them flickered. Lightning charged the air with his power, and she hated herself for the thrill of want that quaked through her body. Her body ached at the loss of sensation of his body on hers.

“I’ll talk to you however I want when you force me to do what you want without my consent!”

“I didn’t force you to do anything!” he roared.

“You liar! You are a sick, disgusting creature and I’d rather die a million deaths than be near a monster like you.”

And then he appeared inches from her face, the fire that had once been leashed bursting free. “I DIDN’T DO SHIT TO YOU!”

“THEN HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN THIS?” Sam screamed.

The question seemed to strike him like a physical blow and, as quickly as it was to appear, his anger was gone, replaced by uncertainty. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. He gave her one last look—curiosity, lust, confusion, _fear_ —before dissolving into a cloud of red smoke.

* * *

Sam slammed her plate of veggie burgers and tofu fries down on the table. The TV droned on, but she couldn’t even take in the words. She trembled in rage and…something else. Not that she’d acknowledge it.

She was still doubting whether the events in the last hour were real. Absently, she brushed her swollen lips with the tips of her fingers.

He had kissed her like he was a demon and she was his only salvation. He had taken every single rational thought in her head and banished them with bruising intensity.

And she had met him with just as much passion and desire.

Her cheeks grew warm at the thought. She was such an idiot! What had gotten into her? He had to have been lying about not manipulating her into kissing him. There was no way she was naturally attracted to the Ghost King.

Right?

She moodily drummed her fingers on the tabletop, then sighed. Well, it didn’t matter now. He was gone, and it looked like he wasn’t coming back. She could get back to her life.

“This just in,” a newscaster reported. Sam banished any thoughts of the Ghost King and focused on the news channel, “a ghost has escaped the Ghost Zone and is wreaking havoc on Amity Park. The specter known as Undergrowth—”

She choked, struggling to keep her bite of burger down. With effort, she swallowed it heavily. It burned like acid the entire way down.

“No,” she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shiiiiiit, what's going to happen next??? Find out next week 😉


	4. demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is now officially longer than the original version!
> 
> *fist pumps*
> 
> As always, thank you so much to those who share their love and support for this fic, you're truly the best!

“Hi, Sam,” Maddie Fenton welcomed her with open arms. “I’m sorry we had to see each other again under these circumstances.”

“Me too,” Sam responded quietly. She hugged the fellow ghost hunter warmly. It had been awhile since she had seen Mrs. Fenton, and Sam had missed her.

Mrs. Fenton pulled away to eye her at arm’s length. “I heard some strange reports about you on the news,” she commented offhandedly.

She stiffened at the reminder of Phantom. She forced her voice to sound normal. “All rumors. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Mrs. Fenton studied her for a moment, then smiled. “Well, if you ever need help, know that the Fentons are always here for you.”

Sam gave her a rare smile. She felt like she hadn’t smiled in an eternity. “I know. Thanks, Mrs. Fenton.”

“Of course, sweetie. Now, come in. We have a ghost to destroy!”

* * *

The plan was simple.

Undergrowth was following the same pattern that he’d enacted when he had first come to the human world four years ago. He destroyed everything in his path, leveling infrastructure, buildings, and entire forests, killing humans in his way, and enslaving those he didn’t. He picked the humans who believed in his ideals the most, and twisted their minds until they believed him to be the father they’d never had and did his bidding with a smile.

Sam would know. She’d lived it.

Their group of ghost hunters would split up; Jack and Jazz Fenton would attack the mind control vines, freeing the enslaved humans. Mrs. Fenton and Sam would take on Undergrowth.

However, there was always a chance that Undergrowth was prepared for an attack like that and had something up his sleeve; he wasn’t your average ghost who could only come up with something as complicated as a one-point plan. But Mrs. Fenton had already planned ahead. Before leaving for battle, she had pulled Sam aside and pressed three vials into her hand. 

“Something I’ve been working on in case Undergrowth returned,” Mrs. Fenton explained. “A highly potent toxin lethal to plants with ectoplasmic energy. Only use it if nothing else has worked; it’s untested and this is all I have, so I can’t guarantee it will work the way I designed it.”

Sam nodded and tucked them away into her pocket. “Hopefully, it won’t come to that.”

“Maddie, Sam, let’s hit the road!” Mr. Fenton bellowed. “Time to kick some ghost butt.”

Mr. Fenton dropped Mrs. Fenton and Sam off five blocks from Undergrowth’s last known location. Both women were outfitted in Fenton Exterminator Armor, built to destroy plants and protect against the Mind Vine. They headed south, picking their way through crumbling roads and plants. The two of them were silent; they knew their plan, and being ready for anything would mean the difference between life and death. 

“Well, if it isn’t my two least favorite humans.”

Immediately, Mrs. Fenton and Sam stood back to back, weapons hot and ready to fire at the first sign of the ghost. He didn’t emerge. Cackling laughter echoed through the ruins of buildings.

“Did you really think you could sneak up on _me_? Mere moments since escaping the Ghost Zone, and my children were already watching your every move.”

“Ew. Obsessive stalker much?” Sam couldn’t help but mutter. She and Mrs. Fenton began walking forward together again, alert.

“I heard that,” Undergrowth snapped. Rustling behind buildings and newly-grown shrubbery had Sam’s eyes darting back and forth, ready to respond. “I was curious about how far you would go to try to kill me. I’m honestly disappointed how…lacking this plan is. Especially yours, my dear daughter.”

The designation tore at scabs Sam had thought had healed long ago. “Okay, one,” Sam snarled, “I am not your daughter and never will be. Two, I already have one disapproving father; I don’t need a delusional psychopath acting like my second one.”

“We will see,” he dismissed her, “after you attempt to defeat my new children.”

A wave of his hand, and the ground around the two women cracked open, sprouting what looked like a cross between an Oleander and a Venus Flytrap. They glowed with ghostly energy, and growled ravenously as they inched closer.

“ATTACK!”

The world became a little bit of a blur after that.

_Dodge a spiny leaf, block a vine, fire ice at Plant One, Two, Three. Jump over two animated plant goons lunging for her, fire, stab, fire._

“Sam, behind you!”

There was a blow to the back of her shoulder. She rolled with the momentum. She flung her arm back. Shot the creature in the head. It froze over.

Another creature curled back, ready to strike, when it screeched as an ice beam caught it in the eye and it froze over. Mrs. Fenton.

Sam saw a flash of color behind Mrs. Fenton. Sam made a twisting motion with her wrist. A blade dropped free from the armor. Lunging forward, she swung the blade and caught the plant monster right in the neck. She then pulled a grenade from her belt and flung it at the twisting vines forming together. There was a bang, and chunks flew everywhere. 

“Thanks!” Mrs. Fenton panted. They both moved to their defensive positions.

“Back ‘atcha.”

With that, they readied themselves again.

Sam never saw him coming.

He hit her with the force of a bullet in the side. There was a second of weightlessness, then the air was wrenched from her lungs. Her head hit concrete, and black spots filled her vision.

Dark, billowing laughter echoed. Sam pressed her eyes closed to stop seeing double. She was surprised she didn’t pass out right then.

“Foolish child,” Undergrowth crooned, his voice dripping with sickly sweet sap. “Even now, I sense how restless you are. You yearn for something. You were so content as my Caretaker; join me, and be happy again.”

“I know you’re a selfish, close-minded, ectoplasmic maniac,” she managed, “but you don’t get to tell me what makes me ha—” She cut herself off when one of Undergrowth’s new hybrid creatures arced towards her.

Sam was too slow to react. It went right for her midsection, piercing through her armor and skin.

Shocks of pain rippled through her. She choked on a scream. The smell of copper filled her nostrils.

Shoots wormed into the space between steel and skin, and the Fenton Exterminator Armor broke apart. It gave the greenery more room to strike. Thorns lanced through every available space, scraping and pricking. 

Scorching agony raked through her, and shrieks resonated through the streets. Distantly, Sam hoped that it wasn't Mrs. Fenton, that she was safe.

In the brief moment her mind cleared, she fumbled at the remains of the armor. Her fingers closed around the cool glass of a vial.

A shadow rose over her. Undergrowth matched his current level of power in size, easily as tall as a skyscraper. He grinned, revealing the jagged edges of his mouth.

“Surrender, my daughter. Surrender, and I will make your suffering end. Help me make the world better.”

“ _NO!_ ”

It wasn’t a scream, or a shout, exactly. It was a tsunami of sound, big enough that it felt like a physical force. The pressure on her ears had her dropping the vial to claw at her ears. Layers of power swelled in each note, vibrating through her bones.

_Phantom._

Undergrowth’s grip on her slackened. “M-My King!” he stammered, his voice cowed and cautious.

Even with her vision clearing by the second, she felt more than saw Phantom come between her and the plant ghost.

“Release her.” His voice brooked no argument. Sam had never heard him so sinister.

“ _What?_ ”

“RELEASE HER NOW!” The ground trembled. Every car alarm went off. 

Vines withdrew from her completely, the sudden lack of pressure making her lungs fill with air, and she made a noise that was a mix between relief and more pain. Her sight cleared completely, and she blinked the fuzziness away in time to see Undergrowth rightly cowering below Phantom, whose fury was rippling his hair and casting shadows.

“My King, I—” Undergrowth barely had time to try again before Phantom backhanded him savagely. The blow decimated Undergrowth’s face, but he quickly shifted to regenerate it.

“Please, King Phantom. She’s just an insignificant human girl. Easily expendable and replaceable.” 

Phantom’s haunting red irises dimmed, replaced by a green glow. Phantom stretched his hand out, palm facing outward, and curled his fingers inward, as if he was squeezing something. Undergrowth convulsed, shrieking in pain. Rapidly, the giant plant ghost shrank, soon becoming the size of a house, then a car, then a person. Within seconds, the ghost had gone from full strength to the size of a mouse. Phantom beckoned him closer, and Undergrowth floated into the King’s waiting hand. Phantom clenched his hand, and Undergrowth squeaked as his chest was constrained.

It was clear that Phantom had no intention of calming down and was long past talking about it. From the look on Undergrowth’s face, he knew it too.

“Spare me,” Undergrowth pleaded, scrabbling at the grip on his body. “Please.”

“No. You know why I won’t?” Phantom’s voice dropped several degrees. “Because you’re _expendable_ to me.”

With that, an icy energy flooded over Undergrowth. His eyes went wide, before his entire form froze over. Phantom let go, and Undergrowth dropped and shattered into a million pieces.

“What on earth?” Mrs. Fenton mumbled. She crouched next to Sam and scrutinized Phantom and the remaining shards of Undergrowth as if they were a new malfunction in one of her prototype ghost hunting inventions.

“Help me up,” Sam managed to say. There was still a ghost to deal with and, based on Sam’s previous experiences, this one would be way more difficult to deal with than Undergrowth.

“You shouldn’t move at all, Sam, you’re bleeding way too much,” Mrs. Fenton worried. She still supposed Sam as the college student heaved herself up on weak and unfeeling legs.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Phantom rounded on her by the time she was back on her feet.

Doing her best to ignore the pounding of her heartbeat in her skull and the memories of the last time she had seen him, she snarked, “My job. Do you not remember how we met?”

“You’re an idiot to go after Undergrowth. He’s one of the most powerful ghosts in the Ghost Zone.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious. Where were you four years ago?” At that, Sam winced and pressed a hand to her stomach. She could feel the stickiness of the blood clinging to her clothes and a wave of nausea twisted her organs into knots.

“What’s wrong?” He asked roughly, still in argument mode.

“I thought that looked a lot like _Nerium oleander_ ,” she muttered to herself. “Trust Undergrowth to make one of the most deadliest plants in the world ten times more deadly.”

An excruciating twist in her abdomen robbed her of any chance of continuing, along with any strength in her legs.

Familiar arms caught her a second before she was on her knees. “Where are you hurt?” Phantom questioned, an edge to his voice she’d never heard. Lot of different sides to him she was seeing.

Mrs. Fenton was there, checking her pulse. “We need to get you to the hospital,” she said, all business. She pressed a button on her Fenton Phone. “Jack, I need—”

“Don’t bother,” Sam rasped. “I-I can feel it; I don’t think I’ll make it that long.”

As soon as the word passed her lips, all she could see was the green of Phantom’s eyes. _Green?_ “Like hell you are.” He spoke as if she had threatened the lives of everyone he cared about.

He gathered her in her arms, and the abrupt change in angle and altitude made the world turn blurry. Sam could vaguely hear Mrs. Fenton protesting. The iciest wind she’d ever felt coated her vision in red until the world faded away. Sam could feel herself slipping further away.

The last thing she heard was his voice saying, “ _Get me Frostbite, now!_ ”

* * *

The first sensation that came to Sam’s mind was the feeling of bubbles brushing against her cheeks.

Which was odd, because bubbles meant that she was underwater. But she was breathing easily, her lungs unhindered by liquid.

The second sensation was the feeling of weightlessness. Then, Sam registered the feeling of something hard pressing against the outline of her face.

Thoroughly confused now, Sam rose further into consciousness. She opened her eyes.

She was floating in a large metal chamber. The hard lines pressing against her face was a ventilator. In front of her was a glass panel that overlooked the container.

And through the glass, a large Yeti stared at her. 

Sam made a noise somewhere between a scream and strangled yelp. She flailed in the liquid, searching for a way out. A spasm of pain tore through her side. 

“Calm yourself, Great Huntress!” the creature cried out. 

“Where the fuck am I?” Sam shouted, her voice raspy from disuse. Ignoring the gnawing pain at the motion, Sam twisted to look for a weapon, a way to escape. “What are you doing to me?”

“Someone summon the King!” the white-haired Yeti said to someone out of Sam’s line of sight. It then turned its focus back to her. Its hands were raised in a placating gesture; one of its hands was made entirely of ice encased in bone. “You are in a stasis chamber, Great Huntress. You were very badly injured, and we needed to slow down the poison before it overtook your system.”

“You’re awake,” a familiar voice interrupted the creature. Phantom walked into view, and Sam almost calmed down at the sight of him, cool and unconcerned. Almost.

Sam pounded a fist on the glass. “You bastard,” she hissed at him. “What are you doing to me? Where the fuck did you take me?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “In case you forgot, I saved you from being plant fertilizer,” he said. “A thanks is the normal response for saving someone’s life.”

Memories started slowly filtering into Sam’s head. Fighting Undergrowth, Mrs. Fenton at her side. Taking that hit from one of Undergrowth’s hybrid children. Pain and hurt and fighting to breathe.

Then, a roar of rage. Green eyes. After that, nothing.

Sam stared at Phantom, looking fairly blasé with the relaxed set of his shoulders. His eyes were red. “You...you killed Undergrowth.” 

“I did.”

Sam blinked rapidly to process that. “But...why? He was one of your most powerful followers.”

Phantom shrugged his shoulders. “He’d pissed me off,” he said casually.

Sam opened her mouth to pick at that pathetically vague explanation, when a thought interrupted her. “Wait a minute, where am I?”

“The Ghost Zone.”

Sam blinked. She said robotically, “The Ghost Zone.”

A pause.

Sam shrieked, “I’M IN THE GHOST ZONE?”

The Yeti creature with an ice arm jumped at the outburst. Phantom didn’t even blink. “None of those human doctors would have been able to save you in time.” He waved a hand at the Yeti creature behind her. “Frostbite is one of the best healers in the Ghost Zone.”

The Yeti ghost Frostbite placed a fist against his heart. “An honor to meet you, Great Huntress.”

“It’s Sam,” Sam corrected dazedly. Sam, unable to process the ghost Yeti healer right then, focused on the Ghost King. “Take me back to the human world,” she ordered.

Frostbite spluttered at her brash order, but Phantom only smiled wryly at her. “No.”

“What do you mean no?” Sam slapped her hand against the glass of the stasis chamber. 

“You’re still injured,” Phantom said bluntly. “You can’t even extend your arm without cringing in pain; I saw you wince. You’re also exhausted, even though you’ve been unconscious for days. Your body is fragile because of Undergrowth’s poison, and you won’t be leaving the Ghost Zone until Frostbite says you’re in the all-clear.”

Sam spluttered. “Um, fuck no I’m not going to be in the Ghost Zone. I’m perfectly fine going to a regular human hospital.”

Phantom’s eyes flashed. “Those pitiful excuses for doctors wouldn’t know what to do even if they had a map, several diagrams, and step-by-step instructions written for a human toddler.”

“Fuck you, human doctors are more than competent! Science and technology has come a long way and we’ve made breakthroughs and accomplishments that ghosts could only dream of!”

“Yeah, by stumbling around as if their heads are cut off. You’ve only had decent modern medicine for the past couple hundred years.”

“And whose fault is that? According to the history books, the Ghost King is the one who burned down the Library of Alexandria.”

“I wouldn’t have needed to burn the place down if they had just left my ghosts alone instead of trying to torture and destroy them while trying to conquer the entire continent!”

“Well then, maybe they shouldn’t have fucking been there in the first place, huh? Maybe they should have been in the human world.”

There was an awkward cough. Sam blinked and realized Frostbite was standing off to the side of her and Phantom’s argument.

Phantom was inches away from the glass, and then Sam was back in that alleyway, Phantom curling his hand around her thigh as he kissed her. She jerked away from the glass. Heat still pumped in her blood from arguing with Phantom. The pain of her injuries came back in a rush, happy to remind her of how much they didn’t want to move. It didn’t stop the tingle in her veins.

“Great Huntress,” Frostbite addressed Sam, “as your doctor, I cannot put you in a situation that will cause you more harm. All the toxins are almost out of your body; you will only need to stay in the stasis chamber for a little longer.”

Sam gritted her teeth. “Fine,” she grumbled.

Phantom pulled away from the stasis chamber. “I have things to take care of,” he spoke to Frostbite. “If she’s out of the chamber before I’m done, take her to Dora.”

Frostbite bowed low in respect. “Yes, my King.”

Phantom gave him a short nod. He shot her one last look. Sam wanted to shout at him some more. She wanted to ask him, _You’re leaving me here?_ But she refused to let those words escape. 

And then he was gone.

“Fear not, Great Huntress,” Frostbite told her cheerfully. The ghost Yeti gave her a broad smile that belied his intimidating outward appearance. “Your prognosis looks promising, and you are healing very well. I imagine you’ll be out of there within a day. However, it will take some time for your injuries to heal, even after the toxins are cleared.”

Sam crossed her arms. “Great,” she muttered. She did not like that she would still be healing even after getting out of this metal tube. But it was startling to be chatting with a ghost so jovial. She was used to dealing with unhinged, bloodthirsty or idiotic ghosts, and the stark differences were giving her whiplash. “Erm, thank you, by the way,” Sam said reluctantly. “For saving my life. It sounds like I was in a bad state.”

“Anyone under my King’s protection, I am happy to serve.” Even while keeping that bright, jovial mood, Sam saw the shrewd look that entered Frostbite’s eyes as he looked at her. 

Sam’s hackles rose, but Frostbite had already moved on, “For now, I would rest, Great Huntress. You still have some healing to do.”

* * *

Sam could feel the little ball of tension between her shoulder blades loosen as soon as she stepped (well, hobbled) out of the big metal tube she’d been stuck in for over a day. The knot of anxiety was still there—Sam figured it would stay there for as long as she was in a foreign dimension—but it was better, not being confined and vulnerable with a vat of liquid and a breathing mask.

Now firmly on the ground, Sam could see for herself what a giant Frostbite was. He towered three feet above her, with powerful limbs encased in white fur. Even still, he smiled warmly at her, guided her to the nearest bathroom chambers, and handed her fresh clothes for her to wear. He swore on the lives of his brethren that no one would disturb her while she was inside, and for some reason she believed him.

That didn’t make being here any easier. She was completely out of her depth, being in enemy territory. She had no weapons on her and, while she was in the protection of the Ghost King, she had no idea how long that would last, or if that would be enough to keep her from harm. She hadn’t seen him since she had first woken up in the Ghost Zone and they had nearly taken each other’s heads off.

_She was here for as long as she needed to heal_ , she told herself. Her side protested as she raised her arms to pull the gown over her head. She didn’t need Phantom around to ensure her safety; even without weapons, she could be a force to be reckoned with. 

_Besides_ , a small part of her whispered, _the last thing you need is to be in close proximity with the Ghost King_. 

_Shut the_ fuck _up_ , she told herself harshly. She so didn’t need to remember where her mind went when they were in close proximity.

Her fingers were pruney from spending so long suspended in liquid. She squished her thumb and forefinger together, taking in the sensation of wrinkles on wrinkles. Preoccupied, her mind wandered.

She didn’t understand why she was here. In the Ghost Zone. From what she could tell, Frostbite was considered the Royal Healer in addition to Phantom’s second, his main advisor, making him an incredibly important person in the Ghost Zone. And yet, here he was, spending time trying to fix one broken human. Sam vaguely remembered Phantom calling Frostbite’s name just before she passed out from the pain and blood loss. Why bother taking her to the Ghost Zone and save her from the brink of death? Phantom had said multiple times that he intended to kill her.

_I think you call for a more...slow, deliberate torture._

Oh. That was why. He’d said exactly why he was doing all of this when they had first met. He intended to torture her slowly and extensibly, driving her out of her mind, before finally killing her. And he couldn’t exactly torture or kill her if she was already dead, could he?

Feeling particularly cold, she hurried to get dressed. As she did so, she sternly coached herself: _Remember that this is all just to manipulate you and torture you. Remember that this is dangerous enemy territory. Remember that he will take advantage if you keep letting your attraction to him lower your guard. Stay strong._

Then, fully dressed, Sam took a deep breath and walked out of the changing room.

* * *

“Ah, good,” Frostbite said when Sam walked out of the bathroom, dark hair curling as it dried. “Was the bath to your satisfaction?”

“It was great, thank you,” Sam said shortly. She pushed her inner turmoil of Phantom and the Ghost Zone from her mind. Frostbite didn’t blink at the hard tone.

“Excellent. In that case, I would like to introduce you to Dorathea.” At Frostbite’s side was a slim ghost with long blonde hair braided down to her lower back. She wore a light blue dress that reminded Sam of those outfits from those Renaissance fairs. A necklace around her neck held a large, glittering green pendant. “She is Phantom’s Councilor. Dora, this is the Great Huntress Samantha Manson.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Samantha,” Dora said warmly. Her voice had a lilt of an accent.

“Sam is just fine. And it’s nice to meet you too.” At Frostbite’s introduction, Sam was racking her brain, trying to remember what that book on medieval castles she’d read once at the Skulk n’ Lurk had said about the roles within medieval kingdoms. While she was frustrated that her memory was hazy, she couldn’t fault herself; how should she have known that the information would become useful when she was introduced to the Ghost King’s Council?

“I’m glad to hear that you are recovering well,” Dora said. “From Frostbite’s report, it sounded like you were on the brink of death.”

“Yeah, well, I’m surprised about surviving myself. A _Nerium oleander_ and Venus flytrap cross is not something you’re meant to survive.”

“Frostbite and the beings of the Forever Frozen are some of the best healers in the Ghost Zone; you are under the best care here. In the meantime, while you are completing the remainder of your recovery—”

“Oi, dipshits!” A voice interrupted Dora. “You leave me stuck with Skulker to deal with the space shortages in Kanima Valley _and_ you start playing with the human without me?”

In walked two more ghosts. The one who interrupted Dora was gorgeous: dark eyeliner highlighting bright green eyes, a black crop top with black leggings and high boots in the shape of a skull, and bright blue flames rippling from her head to form a ponytail. An electric guitar was strapped to her back. It was every goth and punk’s dream. At her side was a towering robotic figure with flaming green flames for hair and a goatee. A thick metallic belt was strapped over his chest under a black top, and he was clearly ready for battle at a moment’s notice; he wore a shoulder guard and thick gauntlets.

Yet, despite the intimidating appearance, the robotic figure whined at the goth ghost, “Hey!”

“I was just introducing myself to her, Ember,” Dora said calmly. “She was only just released from the healing chamber.”

“It’s wonderful to see you, Ember and Skulker!” Frostbite greeted the newcomers. “Great Huntress,” he spoke to Sam, “this is the Ghost King’s Grand Diplomat, Ember, and the King’s Marshal, Skulker. Fellow Councilmembers, this is Samantha Manson.”

Sam crossed her arms. “Just Sam is fine.” She had never been in such close proximity with so many ghosts; it made the hairs on her arms stand up. Sam raised an eyebrow. “Also, what’s with the whole ‘Great Huntress’ thing?”

“King Phantom mentioned that you were an exceptional hunter. He told me of how you easily captured Technus, which is a difficult feat. I felt your title should reflect your achievements.”

Sam pulled a complicated face at that. It was odd to have a ghost coin a nickname that celebrated her ghost hunting. But, well, she figured that she could be a worse name. Also, why did Phantom mention Technus to Frostbite?

Ember graced her with an assessing smirk. “Well, aren’t you a doll.”

“It is always interesting to meet a fellow hunter,” Skulker said with a predatory grin. “I’m the Ghost Zone’s greatest hunter. I would be fascinated to have a competition, to see who is better.”

Ember scoffed. “The last time you successfully caught something was over two hundred years ago. She’s probably caught more prey in the past year than you have in your entire afterlife.”

Skulker swelled in indignation. “I’ve been busy with the duties of Royal Marshal! I haven’t had time to properly hunt—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we know,” Ember dismissed. Her focus was still on Sam. “So Undergrowth did this to you?” she asked bluntly.

Sam squared her shoulders. “The one and only.”

Ember tsked. “The guy was always a conceited ass. Impressive for you to have taken him down.”

“Thanks, it was a group effort,” Sam said dryly. It especially was surprising to learn that there was more to the Ghost Zone’s throne than just the King. What was more on her mind, however, was why she was meeting all these ghosts. If they were all a part of Phantom’s Royal Council, then why were they wasting their time meeting her? Also, Sam’s abdomen was slowly growing more and more painful, and her head was beginning to ache. Sam fought not to sway on her feet.

Apparently, Sam didn’t do a good job. Dora caught her eye and said gently, “It looks like you need some more rest. Frostbite says that you shouldn’t exert yourself too much while you’re on the mend. But maybe after you get some rest, if you’re willing, I would be happy to show you around the castle? There’s also a room that’s been prepared for you.” Then, Dora visibly wilted. “Drat, I forgot that I have to organize the welcome party for Duke Wilkinson.”

“I can take her,” Ember offered in a bored tone. “I’m waiting to hear back from the Kanima mayor about my offer.”

Frostbite and Dora exchanged a look. Sam was wary of a ghost who would only peg her as “the human.” But her brain was fuzzy and her body was hurting and she couldn’t think of any other way to get out of it. “Sure,” Sam said blearily.

“At some point, Huntress, we will have a friendly competition,” Skulker promised, a gleam of promise. “And we will see who is the better hunter.”

“I’ll take you to your room,” Dora promised Sam. She gestured to the door. “Right this way.”

Sam didn’t take in a single part of her surroundings when Dora showed her to a room. She sort of remembered when the ghost pressed pain meds into her hands and Sam swallowed them down. She just collapsed into a bed with a whimper. She fell asleep immediately.

* * *

Time passed in a haze of sleep and pain meds and pain. In a moment of clarity, Sam realized how screwed she would have been had she not seen immediate medical attention after Undergrowth. Even after being in that healing chamber, she was still gravely injured. Frostbite checked on her regularly, changing her bandages and making sure she was taking pain meds and keeping her wound clean. 

One day, Sam got thrown into the waking world with loud banging on the door.

Sam groaned, snarling obscenities into a pillow.

BANG BANG BANG.

With a loud noise of complaint, Sam somehow managed to drag herself out of bed. She opened the door to find Ember blowing on some bubblegum. The bubble popped, and Ember smirked at her. “You ready?”

Sam leaned against the doorframe. “For what exactly?”

“The tour. Dora told me to wait, but I’m bored right now and need something to entertain me. So. Tour?”

Sam still had reservations about being alone with a ghost, but she was feeling marginally better right now and felt sick being in bed for days on end. “Sure,” Sam said.

“Cool, be sure to keep up.”

* * *

“And this is the kitchen,” Ember gestured. “This is the domain of the Royal Head Chef, or the Lunch Lady. Make sure you don’t mention meat or vegetables in her presence.”

Sam surveyed the space curiously. “Not to offend you or anything, but can ghosts even eat?”

The ghost brushed a stray strand of flaming hair. “Only if we want to,” she replied. “For celebrations and stuff, sure, but we don’t need it to survive like you humans do. And if we do, it’s only ghost food, not regular human food.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully. As much as she hated that she’d been taken to the Ghost Zone without her consent and was to stay here until Frostbite declared her better, she knew that she had learned more about ghosts and their culture than any living being in all of existence.

Sam stared blankly at a crack on the pot hanging over the counter.

“What?” Ember said questioningly, breaking Sam out of her thoughts.

“Why are you babysitting me?” Sam asked bluntly. “Why not just throw me in a dungeon or something and then deal with whatever important diplomat duties you have? Or, better yet, just let me suffer in pain and misery before I succumb to my injuries?”

Ember barked out a laugh at Sam’s brashness. “I knew there was a reason I liked you, kitten.”

“My meds are fading and I’m in pain and am not in the mood to play some pretty words bullshit.” Sam crossed her arms. Besides, Sam took Ember as the type of person who responded better to people who didn’t pretend or dress up their words.

Ember absently adjusted the strap of her guitar. Distantly, a part of Sam was noting how Ember was beautiful in a ghostly way. Her pale skin, dark eyeliner, and wild, blue, flaming hair would make a majority of goths swoon, with even some non-goths following right behind them. And given what the ghost had told Sam about herself, Ember’s powers made Sam’s imagined reactions of the human population pretty accurate. Sam could guess the ability to charm other people with her music would come in handy as a diplomat, even though the ghost could definitely be considered to be on the more blunt and abrasive side.

“I’m not gonna tell you the exact reason,” Ember said, “because the King told us not to tell you. But basically, you’re going to have a babysitter while you’re here. You don’t have to worry about our duties or whatever.”

Sam frowned at that, but Ember was already moving on, walking out of the room. Sam couldn’t do anything but follow.

Ember let her peek into more rooms. Some were occupied, and Sam was sure to only take the briefest glance before ducking out. It was not uncommon for them to pass ghosts in the hallway; they were usually busy, a few taking the time to nod at Ember, but all ignored Sam completely.

“What is everybody doing?” Sam wondered.

“Basically keeping the Ghost Zone protected, insurgents in line, and carrying out the King’s orders.”

“Are there a lot of threats to the Ghost Zone?” Racking her brain, Sam really couldn’t think of anyone or anything that could be deemed a threat to Phantom. He seemed too...invincible. Him plus Ember and the rest of his Guard? There was no chance. 

Based on the smirk on her face, Ember agreed with her. “No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To outline Phantom's Council (at least, the members you've seen so far) and their responsibilities:
> 
> Frostbite - King’s Second
> 
> Skulker - Marshal: responsible for all law enforcement, their town; enforcement for local and state laws or ordinances. Also responsible for securing kingdom’s borders
> 
> Dora - Councilor: liaison between citizenry and other kingdom’s leaders, parsing requests from the commonwealth and presenting the leader’s proclamations to the people in understandable ways. Councilor’s responsibility to make sure the Ruler is making decisions that benefit the kingdom’s communities and its citizens
> 
> Ember - Grand Diplomat: kingdom’s foreign and domestic policy


	5. conspiracy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sadly a little later than usual, but I saw a few errors before I transferred the chapter to ao3, so better late than never!
> 
> Enjoy my friends ;)

Later, Sam found herself and Ember standing in front of an ornate, wooden door with carved figures decorating the surface. 

“Here’s your room,” Ember told Sam. “Dora wanted me to tell you that if you need anything else, you should tell her. We haven’t had a human in the castle before, so she might have missed something.”

Absently, that had Sam trying to conjure images of a ghost’s room. What did ghosts need in a room? It wasn’t like they even slept. Sam grimaced at the idea of sleeping on the floor with things floating all around her.

To Sam’s chagrin, she hadn’t really taken in her surroundings all that much. She had been in too much pain to take in anything else. To Sam’s surprise, the room was the complete opposite of what she expected. The room was large and spacious, lit with various candles. A large canopy bed with a black metal frame and heavy, ornate curtains draping over the frame was against the opposite wall. There was a luxurious couch facing a fireplace, with green flames crackling heartily. There were two other doors in the corner, one of which Sam vaguely knew was a bathroom. 

It was the most elaborate, indulgent room Sam had ever seen, which was saying something, given that Sam had seen her parents’ room. “This is _my room_?”

“You’ve been in here for days, what are you surprised about? But yeah, King Phantom told Dora to set you up, so she tried to think of everything you might need. Dora lived in a medieval castle for several hundred years, so it might be decorated a little princess-style.”

Sam continued to gape at the room. “Well, shit, if this is my room, I can’t imagine what the other rooms look like,” Sam muttered.

Ember snorted. “Dora’s good with decorating rooms and everything, but there was no way she was half-assing this one.”

Sam’s eyebrows scrunched at that but, before she could say anything, Ember was already moving to the door. “Anyway, I have to bail, but if you need anything, you have Dora. Glad we got to chat, pumpkin, it explained a few things.” Ember twisted her head at the door to give Sam a parting smirk. “Catch ya later.”

With that, Ember was gone, and Sam was left alone. 

Side aching and her eyes heavy from exhaustion, Sam trudged to the bed and gingerly lay down, her legs dangling off the edge of the mattress. Eager to shut out reality, she flung an arm over her eyes. 

It was ironic: after graduating high school, Sam had shown to herself over and over again that she would never miss her childhood home. When Sam was in Amity Park, her parents always lay in wait to pester her, judging her, stopping her from doing things she loved. And yet, here she was, wishing she was home. She would take her parents’ nagging any day over this unfamiliar and dangerous place with unfamiliar and dangerous beings. 

She didn’t know how long she would be here. The person that had brought her here in the first place hadn’t shown his face ever since she’d woken up, which pissed her off. What happened to the endless teasing and bugging that he had done? Instead, it sounded like he had passed her off to his servants and appointed them as babysitters like she was five.

If it came to it, she would get herself out of here. She wouldn’t rest until she got back home.

With that, she kicked off her boots and crawled under the covers. Sleep was becoming far too insistent to ignore, and she needed to be ready to face tomorrow.

* * *

After a little over a week in the Ghost Zone (at least, she was fairly certain it was a week; time was weird in the Ghost Zone), Sam settled into this strange sense of routine and normalcy in the Ghost King’s castle.

Every day, Sam went to the infirmary to get checked by Frostbite. After he checked her over, Sam would leave to go to the kitchens and get food from the Lunch Lady. Then, whoever was her babysitter for the day would meet her outside and try to entertain her. It appeared as if her babysitter for the day rotated between Frostbite, Ember, and Dora. Each entertained her in different ways: Dora took her to the library and would tell her stories of her and her brother. Ember took her along when she was tasked with hounding people, or tucked her in a corner while she performed in the court on her electric guitar. Frostbite was the ghost who mixed up their routines the most. He took her to his home, the Far Frozen, where she would watch many Ghost Yeti participate in a competition of skills. It had been fascinating to watch so many ghosts engaging in ancient Roman-style combat sports: ice powers version. Then, once Frostbite had declared her healed enough, he had taken her to the Ghost King’s forge, where ghostly weapons were fashioned. Sam was fascinated, seeing ghost-forged armor and swords and more. Frostbite had then handed her an obsidian shield and taught her the basics of swordplay to build up her strength. Sam had never worked with a sword before and, while her side felt better every day, the work took a lot out of her.

One day, when Sam was feeling particularly exhausted and the sword felt like it was three times heavier than usual, Frostbite offered they take a break.

“There is something I believe you would enjoy seeing,” Frostbite told her as he led her to a part of the Forever Frozen she’d never seen. They entered a cave, and Sam took in the gorgeous carvings lining the stone. “The history of the Ghost Zone,” Frostbite told her. “But that is not what I wished to show you. Come.”

Sam eyed an image of a hulking figure with a green crown and an eyepatch with burning curiosity, but reluctantly moved on. She would ask about it later.

The mouth of the cave opened up to a wide cavern with many frames. In the center of the room was a chest. Frostbite pressed his hand against it. The chest obligingly opened, and a scroll, glowing pink, rose to hover over its place within the chest.

“This is the Infi-map,” Frostbite gestured to the scroll. “It is a great treasure of the Ghost Zone.”

Sam ventured closer. “What is it?”

“It is a map of the entirety of the Ghost Zone. The Ghost Zone is constantly changing and adapting, making it virtually impossible for any creature to navigate it all. Well, except for one creature,” Frostbite amended. “Beyond that, however, the Infi-map is the only thing that fully shows the Ghost Zone. It shows every entrance of the Ghost Zone. It will even take you where you need to go.” Frostbite unfurled the scroll and then doors leapt from the parchment, before freezing midair as if someone had thrown it against an invisible canvas. Sam’s eyes went wide in wonder.

“‘Take you where you need to go’?” Sam repeated in confusion.

“Why, yes. There are many mysteries to the Infi-map, but it is known to have, say, a consciousness of some sort. It may know where you need to go better than you do!” Frostbite chuckled.

_So cool_ , Sam’s inner lover of all things strange and mysterious marveled.

“I meant to ask, Great Huntress,” Frostbite said carefully, “how you are doing.”

Sam shot the Yeti ghost an odd look. “My side is feeling better. Still hurts though.”

Frostbite shook his head. “I meant how you are faring mentally, though I am pleased to hear that your wound is healing well.”

Sam crossed her arms. While her time in the Ghost Zone was unexpectedly...not horrible, it didn’t erase that she often felt like a fish out of water. Items would randomly float into the air as if they had a mind of their own, or would disappear in a blink. Eyed followed her constantly whenever she was out in public.

Sam thought she was most surprised getting to know the other ghosts. So many of her ghostly encounters had been one-dimensional, only focused on death and destruction and mayhem. Interacting with Dora, Ember, and Frostbite had changed that. Dora was an utter sweetheart which, as a goth, Sam hated to say. But it was true. Dora was incredibly thoughtful and sweet, but fair. It was no wonder she was Phantom’s Councilor. Ember was snarky and loved attention, especially when she was performing. But she had a playful and mischievous side, which mostly involved wickedly retaliating against Skulker and the young pirate ghost Youngblood whenever they pranked around or did something stupid, accidentally or not. Ember made people listen to her; it was the reason she was a good Royal Diplomat, despite her brash personality. Frostbite was as kind as he was wise, and so jovial it sometimes made Sam’s head hurt. But it came from a place of sincerity, so Sam couldn’t fault him too much for it. 

It didn’t mean that the ghosts were any less dangerous; Sam had seen Dora turn into her dragon form when someone had gotten hurt because of disobeyed orders, and it had almost made Sam pee her pants. Frostbite could ice anyone if he wanted and was a master in practically any weapon you put in front of him, and Ember was wicked and deadly with her guitar. They were dangerous.

But then, people could say the same thing about Sam.

Ultimately, as much as Sam hated to admit it, she was slowly coming to terms with the idea she might have misconceptions about ghosts.

Which was really fucking inconvenient, okay, she was already trying to deal with the bizarre situation of dealing with being in a different dimension, she really didn’t want to be re-evaluating her own personal biases at the same time.

Shit. She was going to have to do some re-evaluating. Ugh.

But that was something to do in her room, not with a ghost Yeti.

Still, she managed a smile for him. “I’m alright. Just a lot to think about. Thank you for showing me this, it’s amazing.”

“Of course, Great Huntress.”

* * *

During the many days she’d been here, she had not seen Phantom once.

The first couple of days. Sam had thought he was just busy. Ruling over an entire dimension seemed like a lot of work. But then days turned into close to two weeks, and there wasn’t even a hint of him.

Which was absolutely infuriating. Of course Phantom would spirit her away to the Ghost Zone to heal her, argue with her as soon as he woke up, only to disappear and have her be entertained by other ghosts. After, you know, the time before they made out in an alleyway. Of course.

Ugh. Not even Sam could pretend to be sincere in her own head.

So it made absolutely no sense when she opened the door to her room the day after Frostbite had shown her the Infi-map to find Phantom waiting for her in the hall.

“You—” And that’s as far as Sam can get, because seeing him again after so long without was like taking a hit to the head. It was as if he was picking back where he left off, though, because he was leaning against the wall casually like he used to and the red eyes and luminous white hair falling over his eyes were still the same. He felt familiar and a complete stranger. 

He tilted his head to look at her. “You?” he repeated with a smirk, and a torrent of emotions rushed through Sam. “That’s it?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Sam snapped. “I haven’t seen you in like a week, so excuse me for being a little surprised at you showing up out of the blue.”

Phantom mockingly flashed his hands. “Well, here I am. Miss me?”

“You wish,” Sam said with a roll of her eyes. “Where have you been? Off terrorizing some small children?”

“Been dealing with Ghost King stuff, actually.”

“Oh, so I was right?” Sam crowed. “Those poor kids—”

Phantom just rolled his eyes again. He pushed off the wall. “Come on,” was all he said.

Warily, Sam followed. He led her through familiar hallways.

As casually as she could, Sam asked, “So where were you actually?”

“Dealing with a prison issue,” he said, “some prisoners escaped and the warden doesn’t know what happened.”

“The Ghost Zone has a prison?”

Phantom shot her a dry look. “Ghosts can misbehave too. Now come on, we’re late.”

“Late for what?”

Like the asshole he was, he didn’t answer, just casually started strolling down the hallway.

Scowling, Sam was tempted to just go back into her room out of spite. 

And yet, she still reluctantly followed him down the hall. Sam shot him a glare when he glanced at her. He shot her a grin.

They reached a large entrance with double doors that were three times Sam’s height. Phantom pushed them open, and Sam took in a large room that appeared to serve as a dining room. It had high ceilings with thick beams. At the center was a long dining room that could easily seat forty people; however, only around twenty seats were set, with a gorgeously elegant centerpiece of candles and flowers.

To the side of the dining table, a group of ghosts stood in groups, talking. Some were recognizable, while others weren’t. 

“My King! Great Huntress!” Frostbite greeted the pair of them joyfully. “Everyone is almost here. The food is already here.”

“Frostbite,” Sam uncertainly greeted the Yeti ghost. She lowered her voice. “Uh… What is this?”

“Why, did the Great King not tell you?”

Sam shot Phantom a look. “No, he must have forgotten,” she said sarcastically.

“Every year, we hold a feast in celebration of the Council and the accomplishments we achieved.” Frostbite gestured towards those in the room. “It also gives us an opportunity to contemplate the goals we’d like to accomplish in the future.”

“Huh. So all these people are on the Council?”

“Yes, you’ve already met many.” He gestured to a few ghosts. “I don’t believe you’ve been introduced to Pandora, the King’s General, the Royal Enforcer, Poindexter, or Walker, the King’s Warden. The King’s Spymaster was unable to attend due to a dangerous mission.”

Sam eyed the hulking, four-armed ghost wearing armor over her toga and a helmet spewing purple. At her side was the reediest teenager in shades of gray. He had wireframe glasses and his hair was slicked to the side with gel. The only other unfamiliar face was a ghost snowy white with green eyes. His suit matched his face and had black accents. He stood with a kind of cocky authority Sam instantly disliked.

All ghosts that Sam decided she would avoid if possible.

“How was Walker’s Prison, my King?” Frostbite asked Phantom.

Phantom raised a shoulder. “Same as it always is. Walker is paranoid. Wulf is searching for the prisoners that escaped.”

“How odd, that they managed to escape,” Frostbite commented. “Walker’s vigilance is legendary.”

Ember appeared at Phantom’s side and punched him in the shoulder. Phantom swore and rubbed at his shoulder. “The fuck, Ember?”

“You know exactly what, babypop,” Ember said innocently.

Phantom rolled his eyes at the reply. Sam blinked at the exchange.

“Great Ember,” Frostbite said cheerfully. “How fares matters of diplomacy?”

“It’s shit, as usual,” she said. The blue-haired ghost pointed at Phantom accusingly. “If you make me talk to that British diplomat one more fucking time, I swear I will bash him on the head with my guitar.”

Ember’s voice dropped into a mocking British accent. “‘Miss Ember, we have upheld our end of the bargain with regards to the protection of peace-abiding ghosts. If King Phantom cannot control his subjects who wreak destruction on British property and harm British citizens, the British Parliament will have no choice but to outlaw all ghosts on British soil.’” Ember rolled her eyes. “Fucker.”

Phantom _sniggered_ , actually sniggered, and Sam’s eyes were about to burst out of her head. “Please tell me you told him to fuck off.”

Ember waved a careless hand, a wicked grin on her face. “Of course I did, babypop. The dude is now under the impression that he’ll have to deal with the influx of ghosts living under his bed every night for the rest of his life if any law against ghosts passes.”

Phantom nodded. “I’ll bring up the problem of dealing with newborns with Frostbite and Skulker. We can start talking about an early detection program to detect and find newborns.” Phantom caught the eye of a ghost waving him over. “I’ll be right back,” he told the three of them, then strode away.

“The orientation program is becoming more important than ever,” Frostbite mused.

Ember clicked her tongue. “It’s good that the King ordered orientation to be mandatory, or shit would’ve hit the fan hundreds of years ago.”

That had Sam’s brain screeching to a halt. “Wait,” she interrupted. “What do you mean, orientation?”

Ember rubbed a grease spot on her guitar. “Well, ghosts awaken with some basic instincts, but they don’t know shit beyond that. They’re ghost babies. Newborns. So they have to do orientation. Though I still think he should’ve named it potty training.”

Frostbite noted Sam’s confused look so he explained, “Most ghosts are unaware of the policies that ghosts must follow while in the human world. They often have little to no control over their abilities, which could lead to disaster if the ghost becomes agitated in the human world. To avoid disaster, King Phantom mandated that all new ghosts are forbidden from being in the human world until they have a solid grasp of their abilities and they understand the rules they are bound by.”

Sam’s jaw slackened in shock. She swiveled her head to see Phantom crack a grin—a real, genuine grin—at whatever Skulker was saying.

“Dinner is served!” The Lunch Lady announced. And then that was the end of that conversation.

Sam found herself sitting at a table, absently eating while watching with wide eyes as the ghosts surrounding her chatted and laughed and ate. Phantom joked and chatted casually with every single ghost. Sam's jaw almost dropped when Skulker pulled Phantom into the crook of his elbow and _gave the Ghost King a noogie_.

Sam was so focused on watching everyone at this dinner that the dinner passed itself in what felt like the blink of an eye. Before she knew it, Phantom was at her side. In front of her, he felt more reserved. He only said to her, "Come on," and then they walked out of the room. Dora waved at the pair of them as she left and, hesitatingly, Sam waved back. Phantom nodded at her and a few other ghosts. 

Sam fixed her gaze in front of them as they made their way to her room. A couple ghosts passed and, immediately upon spotting Phantom, dropped into a respectful bow. He nodded at each ghost in return. And then they moved on.

With the tension between them high, Sam felt relief to see the door of her room a few feet away. Stomach full of nerves, Sam quickly walked to close the final remaining steps to her door. But then she sensed a presence behind her and she whirled around and Phantom was _right there_.

Images of hot mouths moving together flashed in her head. Sam flushed before she could stop herself. Her hackles rose. “W-What are you—”

A hand brushed against her cheek. Sam stopped breathing. Phantom was looking at her, and the heat behind his stare felt stronger than any touch.

“Goodnight,” Phantom murmured. Then, he drew away. Within a blink, he was gone, leaving her standing there alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next weeeeeek!!


	6. shameless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been informed by reviewers from last chapter that Phantom was very wrong and potty training is actually the name for the newborn training. Thank you so much for reviewers for bringing this to my attention. Hopefully Phantom realizes the error of his ways soon 😉
> 
> This is a _long_ chapter. I'm pretty sure it's the longest chapter so far? A lot of things happen (*coughs, looks at the rating*) so I hope you all enjoy.

Sam eyed her closet. “You’re being ridiculous,” she muttered to herself.

Last night had been...a shock. She hadn’t been sure what would happen when she followed Phantom down the hall, but attending a dinner with all of Phantom’s Council had not been on her list of possible outcomes. But what had really shifted Sam’s axis were the interactions that she had seen with her own two eyes, and the things she had been told. 

Phantom was known as the Devil, the boogeyman. The number one enemy of humanity. He was cruel to humans and allowed his ghosts to wreak havoc on the human world.

But, according to last night, that idea was completely, almost laughably wrong. Sam had no idea that governments, especially one as large and powerful as the British government, spoke to a Ghost Throne diplomat. Before meeting Ember, Sam hadn’t even known something like that existed.

Also, the concept that there was a reason behind banning newly-formed ghosts from the human world was...mind-bending. Back in that morgue, when Phantom had ordered the police officer to remain in the Ghost Zone, Sam had thought Phantom was just being an egocentric asshole who got off on controlling others. Now, it turned out that banishing newly-formed ghosts from the human world until they were older and had more control was not just a Phantom-declared mandate, but one agreed-upon by human governments.

How was this something that she’d never heard of before? Were all public citizens kept in the dark about this? It was ridiculous for human governments to be working with the Ghost Throne while also creating institutions that mindlessly hunted and exterminated them.

_Unless they don’t care about their negotiations with the Ghost Throne_ , Sam darkly thought to herself.

Seeing the Ghost King bantering and joking around with his Council—ghosts that he clearly trusted, who also seemed to greatly respect and have camaraderie with their King…

Sam flashed back to the image of Phantom inches from her mouth, his eyes intent. _Stop it, Sam._ Sam groaned and bashed her head against the wall. Then she sighed, then refocused her efforts on figuring out what to wear.

Weeks ago, when Sam had first seen that her walk-in closet was full of _dresses_ , ones with lace and frills and skirts as heavy as her, Sam had gone to Dora and pleadingly asked if there were any other clothing options. Though confused about Sam’s dissatisfaction about the dresses, Dora had obligingly given Sam shirts, jeans, and the occasional skirt and leggings. Soon enough, Sam had enough clothes there to rival her closet in the human world. Sam had protested the amount of clothes (it wasn’t like Sam planned on staying long enough to wear all the clothes even once), but Dora had insisted, and the ghost’s kind sincerity made Sam huff and cave. At least, Sam figured, Dora could give the clothes to someone else after Sam left.

The ghost hunter pulled on tights, a black plaid skirt, a halter top and leather jacket. Then, she rushed out the door.

“I’m sorry I’m late—” Sam stopped and gaped at Phantom, who was waiting outside the door.

“It’s fine,” Phantom said, as if him waiting outside her door was a normal occurrence. He began walking down the hall.

“Wait,” Sam called out, jogging to catch up to him. “What’s happening?”

Phantom didn’t even look at her. “I’m taking you to combat practice,” he said it as if it were obvious.

Then he kept on walking.

Outraged, Sam opened her mouth to say something, then snapped her mouth shut. It was probably because Frostbite, Dora, and Ember were busy. It was probably a one-time thing.

It wasn’t a one-time thing.

In actuality, it started a routine. Every day, he would be outside her door when she left her room for the morning. He would accompany her whenever she decided to spend the day, whether that was hanging among the books with Dora, or attending diplomatic functions with Ember. He would banter with Ember playfully and chat with Dora quietly, going over something or other. She thought she could deal with the hyper-awareness that came from being in his presence. 

Which is why Sam didn’t _completely_ panic when Frostbite called Phantom over for a practice spar. Frostbite had been teaching Sam how to use a sword, which had been Sam’s long-time dream come true. She had been practicing hard every day to use it comfortably, and Frostbite was an excellent teacher. Frostbite had been giving her new sparring partners to become used to battling against different people with different fighting styles.

She did not expect Phantom to be her next sparring partner. “You know how to use a sword?”

Phantom smirked at her. He took one of the swords from the weapons rack, and made a series of complex moves that only a master swordsman could make. He then settled into a ready stance and gave her a challenging look. “Does that answer your question?”

Sam’s competitive spirit rose its head, and that’s how Sam found herself in a sword fight with the Ghost King.

There was no doubting that Phantom was great with a sword. He was quick and light on his feet and wielded his weapon as if it was an extension of itself. Sam, who had only held a sword for a few weeks, couldn’t match his skill if you were just looking at their swordplay.

But Sam never used only one weapon at her disposal at a time.

Which is how Sam managed to surprise him by pulling a push dagger from a hidden sheath at her belt and slashing at Phantom’s exposed side.

She had clearly surprised him, and she pushed her advantage, knocking him down to the ground. She then brought her sword swinging down until it kissed Phantom’s neck.

Phantom held still, his eyes dark and fixed on her. Sam panted, eyes transfixed by him.

“That was excellent!” Frostbite’s voice broke in. “Great Huntress, you have improved immensely in your swordsmanship skills.”

“Great,” Sam said, the word coming out more breathless than usual.

She and Phantom disengaged. 

“Nice job,” Phantom commented. He patted his side, where his side had already healed.

“Thanks,” Sam rolled her shoulders. “You’re great with a sword,” she admitted.

“King Phantom enjoys practicing his weapons when he needs to think,” Frostbite offered.

Phantom shot his Second a look, but his Second didn't notice. Frostbite said to Sam, “I must see Skulker about final decisions for the newborn program. I trust you will be alright in the King’s hands?”

Sam glanced at Phantom. “Er...yes?”

“Excellent, then I will see you soon, Great Huntress. My King,” Frostbite bowed, then flew off.

“Are you hungry?” Phantom asked her. He placed his sword back in its sheath and put it on its shelf.

Sam pushed a strand of hair sticking to her forehead, then arched her back in a stretch. “No, I’m alright.” She was full of too much nervous energy to consider eating.

“I’ll take you back, then.” Together, they walked side by side in complete silence.

Their walk back was painfully tense.

“Your fighting skills have improved,” Phantom finally said.

“Yes, Frostbite is a good teacher.”

“Your...wound is feeling better?”

Sam absently pressed a hand to her stomach. “It’s better.”

Phantom eyed her. “I’m surprised that Frostbite let you do physical activity so soon.”

Sam’s mouth twisted wryly. “Well, if I hadn’t been approved for physical therapy, then I likely would’ve climbed the walls and then bashed him on the head. There was only so much time that I could spend sitting around and doing nothing.”

Phantom raised an eyebrow. “Violent.”

“That’s me.” Sam crossed her arms as she eyed a ghastly oil painting of a Cerberus-looking creature snarling over a cliff. Sam reluctantly admitted, “Frostbite has been...surprisingly accommodating. Everyone has.”

A niggling worm of doubt and fear crept in, and Sam threw a suspicious glance at him. “You aren’t trying to throw me into a false sense of security or something, are you? Lure me into trusting all of you and then being like, ‘Joke’s on you, sucker!’”

His face twisted. “Do you seriously believe that?”

Sam hissed, “That’s it, isn’t it? This is just another one of your _games_.”

Phantom barked out a harsh laugh. “So distrusting.”

“Oh, don’t turn this on me! For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve had fun toying with me. And now you get to do it in your own territory, ordering your underlings to nudge me around like a doll and babysit me.”

“Don’t kid yourself. You think it’s convenient for me to have my people watching over you constantly?” His eyes were burning bright and furiously. He took a step closer to her.

“Then why bother? Just throw me in a little prison cell and leave me to rot. Or, better yet, just kill me!”

Phantom snarled and lowered himself to get right in her face. He grabbed her arm to get his attention. “Like hell I will.”

Sam didn’t, couldn’t back down. She glared right back at him. She sucked in a breath to yell at him some more. And then all of a sudden she registered the scent of him. Ice and ozone. The scent of him and his hold on her forearm felt electric. They both panted, searching for answers in the other’s eyes.

Sam didn’t think that she could move if she wanted to. They were so close, the space between them charged and excited, hovering on some precipice that Sam couldn’t back away from. Her breathing had changed at some point, hitching and ragged. There was something just as intoxicating teetering on the edge of this as it was feeling the pull to fall. To give in.

She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss.

It was hot and addictive, bordering on filthy. Phantom tugged her by the hips until their bodies were lined up, his thigh between her legs. Her hands, restless and eager, explored the plains and ridges of his chest and stomach like the skin between him and her hands were magnetized. There was a push and pull in the way that they moved, water meeting molten lava, and the heat from the collision set Sam’s blood on fire.

Eventually, Sam broke the kiss to gasp for air, her lungs begging for oxygen, yet the fire between them did not lesson. Sam felt a sudden chill, and she distantly noted that he had moved them into her room. But the thought quickly moved into the background when Phantom brushed his lips along her jaw. The smallest whimper escaped her when he reached a spot under her jaw, and he made it his personal mission to draw the noise out of her again. His fingers twined through her hair, and with a tug, her head was tipped back and her lungs stopped working because of the insistent press of his lips.

Unable to take any more without fear of combustion, Sam tugged at the hair at the nap of his neck. In the same moment she was pulling at the fabric of his suit, he angled her jaw. Their mouths clashed together. She discovered that he liked to graze and nip at her lower lip, the sting sending a needy rush of arousal flowing through her with a whimper.

His fingers traced small little circles at the edge of her shirt, sending little shivers skittering over her skin. Sam was opening her mouth and the heat between them only smoldered as their kiss deepened, her tongue tracing across his. 

It wasn’t enough. She needed more. She pulled her mouth away from his. The sound of lips and tongue was almost obscene.

“Off,” she demanded, her voice rough and coarse, pushing and tugging at the hem of the jumpsuit. He shuddered at the feel of her hands skimming her body. He guided her to the zipper and helped her tug it down to his waist. His skin glowed etherally and, like an animal drawn to water, she leaned to taste the cord of his neck. At the junction between his neck and shoulder, he sucked in a breath. She noted the response, and couldn’t help but drag her teeth along the cord of muscle. The strained noise sent a rush of triumph through her. She trailed her lips down, down, down, and traced the lines of his abs. They clenched and flexed under her. She pulled at his hand and guided it under her shirt like she wanted. He took it as the permission it was, and his fingers blazed a trail where he mapped the dips of her spine.

“Samantha,” he warned, his voice tight.

Gleeful at his response and the way he curled his tongue around the syllables of her name, Sam moved to lick a path along the tantalizing trail of the V of his hips, so close to where he wanted her most, before moving back up to play with his other nipple.

“Fuck,” he snarled, and Sam’s lips curled into a smug smile.

She ignored his efforts to get her to rise, focusing on the sight before her. By the time she sucked a hickey into the left side of his hip, Phantom’s control was completely torn to shreds. She was bodily dragged into him. He kissed her, hard. Her legs went around his waist. Her hips shifted around his hardening cock deliciously. He sat at the edge of her bed, settling her into his lap, and the leverage let her arch into him, pressing him into her. His hands slipped under her shirt. And then her shirt was gone. The cool air had goosebumps pebbling her skin, but his touch, hot and insistent, left her panting. His lips brushed against that sensitive spot on her neck as he flicked the clasp of her bra open. The piece of clothing was flung somewhere, and he alternated between rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefingers and tracing the edge of her areola slowly, _agonizingly_ slowly.

Pulling away, she pulled off her leggings. She dropped to her knees at the end of the bed. Phantom’s eyes dilated at the sight. A quick tug at his waist, and Phantom got the message. The suit was pushed down his hips and pooled at his feet. Sam shifted to kneel between his legs. He was hard and leaking, wanting this just as much as she did. Phantom snarled a curse when she gave a long, slow lick to the underside. She repeated the motion languidly. She took him in her mouth, her tongue pressed against the length of him as she went lower. He groaned, and the insistent drag of his fingertips against her head had her hips rolling. She pulled up only for a moment before engulfing him again. She repeated the motion and settled into a rhythm. 

He made a strained noise, rough and course. Sam paused to rub at the slip. Sam didn’t have time to register the noise pulled from him; she was pulled away with a wet pop. His eyes were dark with intent, and Sam was helpless against the shudder of desire. She didn’t remember exactly where her panties went, or how she returned to Phantom’s lap. She was barely feeling the head of Phantom’s cock rub against her entrance, dragging along her clit. The ache in her core was painful, begging to be filled. One stroke, and the head of his cock was slick.

Their eyes met. He was completely bare under her, his eyes dark and his teeth digging into his bottom lip. The muscles in his forearm strained, not to urge her forward but to stop himself from moving her. The feeling of power rushed through her, heightening her arousal. She circled her hips, and his breath caught. 

She couldn’t wait any longer.

She sunk down onto him. The searing, aching fullness. Her head flung back, mouth open, as she sank further. His hands gripped her waist, guiding her strokes. Her thighs burned in contrast to the delicious sensation of him inside her. Her grip on him got slippery from the sweat of her skin on his. His hands shifted her weight, moving her center of balance further back, and the change in angle had her moaning. She clenched him harder, and her grip had him pulling her onto him faster, harder. The coil of tension tightened. She trembled.

His hand trailed along the crease between her leg and stomach. His thumb unerringly found her clit. One, two, three strokes, and then she was coming, pleasure overwhelming her nerves like electricity.

He gave her a couple breaths to come down. He lifted her, still buried inside her, and laid her out on the bed. His eyes traced everything, from the flush in her cheeks, to where their hips were joined. He snapped his hips, and he seemed to devour her response like the sweetest dessert.

The change in position had her discovering new spots inside of her, and he gripped her waist and drove into her as he picked up the pace. The unrelentingly onslaught had Sam writhing. A surge of pleasure had her muscles contracting and she distantly heard him moaning. He pulled her closer to the edge of the bed, and pressed her thighs apart to open her further to him. The change had the pleasure spiraling within Sam. She clutched at him for three more thrusts before her orgasm hit her like a bullet train.

Sounds rushed out of her in a torrent, too lost in the tides that had flooded over her. Phantom came soon afterwards, his hips stuttering as he groaned in pleasure.

Sam mindlessly lay back, her muscles feeling like jelly. That had easily blown all of her expectations of sex out of the water. She hadn’t even known that her body could ever feel that way.

But, all too soon, the languid feeling of her sated muscles faded as she slowly processed what had just happened.

Here she was. In the Ghost Zone, in bed with the Ghost King himself.

She was moving before even consciously thinking about it. Cool air raising goosebumps on her skin, Sam snatched her clothes from the floor, pulling a sweatshirt over her head and crossing to the bathroom.

He caught her just before she could cross through the door. “What are you doing?” 

“Oh, nothing in particular,” she said sarcastically. “Just thinking about how I am betraying my ideals and all of humanity by being here in the Ghost Zone, sleeping with His Royal Highness himself, and not trying to escape or save my world from future domination and destruction.”

Phantom pulled away sharply. “I didn’t see you complaining a minute ago,” he snapped.

Any warm feelings had dissipated, leaving only a bubbling irritation. “What are you doing?” Sam burst out. “What is this? Is this some sick game where you lure the human girl to your world and play with her before killing her, or, like, enslaving and torturing her for your amusement?”

“If I wanted to do any of that, I could have picked a human that was…less you.”

Less bullheaded, intelligent, and opinionated, he meant. It was a fair point, but it still didn’t clear up this whole mess.

“But what do you gain from all of this?” Sam gestured to them, in this room, the bed still rumpled from their earlier efforts. “You gain nothing from saving my life; I can’t give you anything that thousands, if not millions, of other beings can give you.”

“You’re different.”

“ _How?_ ”

Phantom made a complicated face. “You just are! And why are you so focused on me? What are your reasons?”

Her reasons should have been that she was gaining valuable intel, that she was taking down all ghosts from the inside. But they weren’t, and she was desperately trying not to think of the real reasons why she was here, and _why couldn’t he have just left her alone in the first place?_ “None of your business.”

“You don’t have one, do you?” he said bluntly.

“Of course I do!” she said defensively.

“Then what is it?”

“I’m not telling _you_ my reasons.”

“Because you don’t have any!”

“No!”

“Don’t pretend that we’re not in the same boat together!”

“I am the furthest thing from pretending!” Sam shouted. “I am fully aware that what I’m doing is wrong and terrible and that I shouldn’t even want to be in the same dimension as you, let alone touching and—” She refused to continue that sentence. “So don’t you dare try and act like we’re in this together.”

And with that, she stormed out of his room.

As it normally did, the Ghost King’s castle was eager to swallow her whole, and this time Sam eagerly let it. She got lost in the maze of halls and rooms, desperately trying to escape the thoughts chasing her.

It didn’t work. No matter how much she tried to run, the soreness in her thighs and the sting of nips along her neck and shoulders made a constant reminder.

Eventually, she huffed and stopped, finding an alcove tucked away. She pressed her entire back to the corner, before she let herself fall to the floor, tucking her legs so that she could wrap her arms around them.

_Fuck, what had she done?_

She’d just had sex with _the Ghost King._ Why, why, why had she done it?

Then again, they had been dancing around each other like this for a while now. That first kiss had felt more and more damning. She stared hard at the rough edges of the stone floor. And she hated that, despite everything, she thought about the fire that stoked when he tilted her head _just so_ to kiss her, or the way that he had snarled in his chest when she had sucked him, and she _wanted_.

But wasn’t this what Phantom had wanted? He had said that he would toy with her. Of course he’d do it in a way where he’d get pleasure from her too.

She refused to give in. No matter how close he got. Her common sense gave her a long, long list of reasons why she should never, ever touch Phantom ever again, and never let him touch her again. She had to listen to common sense.

She stayed huddled in that corner of the castle until her ass was numb and her skin felt brittle from the cold. During the entire walk back to the castle, she built the thickest and toughest mental wall she could imagine, preparing herself in case Phantom was still there waiting for her.

She refused to acknowledge the feeling of disappointment when he wasn’t there.

* * *

In some ways, things didn’t change. Sam had braced herself when Phantom had stood outside her door the next day, but he only mentioned Frostbite wanting to introduce her to archery and didn’t say anything more. Then, he left without further acknowledgement, and Frostbite had greeted her cheerfully. Ember stopped by, wanting to rant about humans’ obsession with dabbing (“what the fuck, Manson, why do people think they look cool sneezing”) and then Youngblood appeared to whine at Ember that Klemper kept on bugging him (“He keeps on almost freezing me, and last time he almost froze himself onto my arm, and I’d rather give my ship and crew to Skulker than let that happen.” Ember only said, “The hell are you bugging me about this for? I managed to divert his attention away from me fifty years ago and I intend to keep it that way. Get Dora to deal with it.”).

After her first archery lesson, Sam’s arms were aching and she had a headache dancing between her temples. A shower and some food helped, and she eagerly chatted with Dora about feminist novels and poetry. Somehow, after Sam had mentioned Simone de Beauvoir once, Dora had somehow conjured _The Second Sex_ the next day despite never having heard of it before. A few days later, Sam and Dora had started a full-fledged book club.

Sam never would have guessed that her time in the Ghost Zone would end up being filled with ghost hunter training, a book club, and silly pranks. The training had helped Sam build back her strength, and she was almost as strong as she had been before the attack by Undergrowth. But Frostbite had analyzed her bloodwork and, with traces of the poison still in her system, believed she was yet to be fully out of danger.

Frustrated, Sam had focused her efforts on beating up a punching bag, then practicing her footwork while wielding a sword. The hard work had Sam collapsing in an exhausted heap every night.

She didn’t see Phantom.

* * *

Sam winced as she moved her shoulder back and forth. Today, Skulker had eagerly challenged her to a test of strength. Curious at how she fared against the Ghost Zone’s greatest hunter, she had accepted and had spent the next hour learning how much of a bitch it hurt to punch and wrestle someone made out of steel. It was only when Sam realized she could use it against him that the tides turned. Sam had focused on evading rather than blocking, tripping rather than barreling over. As soon as Sam dove and twisted her legs between his feet, he was down, and then Sam pinned him. Sam felt like she was one big bruise, but the victory felt worth it.

Sam entered her room, thinking of a nice soak in the bathtub, when a shadow and a flash of red caught her attention.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t little Samantha,” a voice cooed.

Sam whirled in alarm, diving to find cover behind a couch.

“Oh please, you don’t have to worry about me attacking you or anything.”

“Who are you?” Sam demanded. “And why are you in my room?”

“Well, I just got back, and when Skulker told me just who was staying in the castle...well, I just had to see for myself. Are you going to come out, sweetie?”

Stifling the urge to stay put out of sheer spite, Sam slowly rose from the protection of the couch, ready to defend herself at the first sign of attack. On the couch sat a woman with dark red hair and horned glasses. A deep red pencil skirt barely covered half of her crossed thighs, and she wore a matching red blazer buttoned up over a white collared shirt and a black tie. This woman was elegantly coiffed, a bright smile adoring her face. Standing next to her was a short, graying man wearing a tailored suit. He gave her an unimpressed look.

“I won’t ask again,” Sam said coldly. “What are you doing in my room?”

The woman tsked. “I just told you, sweetie. Didn’t your mother teach you about treating your guests kindly?” 

The back of Sam’s neck heated up. “Yes, she did,” Sam said flatly.

The redhead raised a hand to her chest. “Oh dear, did I hit a nerve? I didn’t mean to, I promise.” She tilted her head. “I admit, I don’t see many young women diving behind a couch just from being taken by surprise. Are you a soldier?”

“No.” Sam had no idea why she was replying. “I’m a ghost hunter.”

“A ghost hunter?” The woman burst into peals of laughter. Her short companion joined her.

Sam’s hands curled into fists in embarrassment. “What?” she bit out.

“Oh, oh, it’s just—” The woman wiped a tear from her eye. “No wonder. It makes sense, given how you’re dressed.”

Sam felt like a black cloud was smothering her. “W-What does that have to do with anything?”

“Sweetie, I think you know what I’m talking about.” The redhead eyed her, and Sam felt like her entire soul was open and exposed. “You were bullied, weren’t you? In high school. Teased about how you dressed and how you were a ghost hunter. People likely called you a freak, a weirdo, an outcast. And you likely played it cool, as if you didn’t care, but you did, didn’t you?”

Sam felt cold.

The intruder shared a sympathetic look with her companion. Then, she walked closer to Sam. The smell of sickly sweet candy overwhelmed Sam’s nose.

“It’s okay, sweetie.” The woman put a comforting hand on Sam’s shoulder. It only made Sam feel colder. “I understand what it’s like to feel like a loser. Like no one loves you. It’s okay to feel lonely sometimes.”

A loser? Lonely?

Dash and Paulina had always sent jabs about her lack of popularity and how she didn’t have any friends. She had always brushed it off. But, hearing it now, she started thinking of all the times she had come across a funny story and wanted to share it, only to have no one there. Tucker, the one person she’d felt close to, had other friends to play games and freak out over tech stuff. And she had only known Tucker for a year; in high school, she hadn’t really had anyone.

As much as Sam was outspoken and loud, Sam knew that she was an introvert. But being an introvert didn’t mean that she wasn’t lonely.

“That’s enough, Spectra,” another voice interrupted.

Sam started. She sought the source of the voice.

Phantom stood in the doorway of her room. His jaw was tight and he glowered at the two ghosts.

The redhead—Spectra—straightened in surprise. “My King.” She bowed respectfully.

“These are not your quarters, and Samantha didn’t invite you. You are not to enter these rooms without her permission.”

Spectra bowed lower. “Of course, my King.”

“And if I ever learn that you drained her using your tricks…” Phantom’s eyes zeroed in on Spectra’s hand on Sam’s arm, and his voice turned dangerous. “...I will see to it that you beg for any energy.”

Spectra quickly dropped her hand. All of a sudden, it felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from Sam’s lungs. Sam frowned in confusion.

“Report to my quarters in an hour,” Phantom commanded.

“Of course, my King.” Spectra turned her head, and Sam was startled at the look of anger aimed at her. Along with something else… Hunger?

The two ghosts disappeared quickly.

“Are you alright?” Phantom asked Sam carefully. 

“I—” Sam furrowed her eyebrows. “What just happened?”

Phantom’s mouth was tight. “That was my Spymaster and her assistant, Bertrand. She just got back from an assignment. She heard that a human was in the castle and—” Phantom’s eyes narrowed. “She couldn’t resist. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“But… What did she do?” Because Sam _knew_ that something had happened. She suspected because the smell of nauseatingly sweet candy still lingered and warmth was slow to come back to her body.

Phantom sighed. “She feeds on human emotions. The more negative, the better.”

Sam let that sink in. “So _that’s_ why.” That’s why words that hadn’t bothered her in a long time had felt like daggers in her chest. Why she had felt hollow and cold and oh so alone.

Phantom took a step closer. “It’ll fade soon.”

Sam nodded robotically. Then, she glanced up at him. And stopped breathing.

Because he was a lot closer than she thought. Because the look on his face made the feelings of sadness and loneliness disappear. Because it would be so easy to kiss him.

But Sam closed her eyes and stepped away. “I should clean up and head to bed.”

Phantom inhaled, then exhaled. “Right. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Sam heard the door close, then exhaled shakily.

* * *

Sam burrowed deeper into the covers, enjoying the warmth and comfort. She drifted in the softness, content to be in this in-between state of sleep and wakefulness.

There was a warmth from behind her, an unfamiliar but not unwelcome one. An arm snaked over her torso, pulling her into a firm body. She hummed and arched further into the person sharing her bed.

Emboldened by her encouragement, a nose parted the locks of her hair to press lips to the back of her neck. The hand attached to the arm around her stroked her navel. The touches had Sam murmuring as the heat inside her belly stirred. The wandering hand dipped lower and lazily ventured under her shirt. The teasingly light sensation of fingertips brushing up her torso to her breasts had her squirming. Fingers traced the edges of her nipple before twisting and thumbing over the taut nipple. 

Sam whined. The syrupy slowness of sleep was gone, the ache between her legs too insistent. Her companion’s breath was hot against her neck, seeming to relish in exploring her body. Her hips writhed at the attention. and she felt something hard and insistent pressing against her. Finally, the hand wandered away from her breast, down where she wanted him the most. His hand slid under her underwear, parted her lips, and then he was exploring her folds. Sam gasped in pleasure. She desperately grasped the hand working her, keeping him right where she wanted him. He circled her clit and the jolt had Sam moaning. He nipped the taught cord of muscle at the side of her neck, and Sam hissed out a curse as she jerked in his arms.

“You gonna come for me?” A voice, rough with desire, murmured in her ear. Sam whined in response, helpless and unable to stop the twitching and undulating of her hips.

Sam opened her eyes to see red irises, dark with lust, watching her as she tightened and tightened against him, perilously close to breaking…

Sam jerked away with a gasp. She blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend the images of her legs twined into the sheets of her bed. Alone and vibrating in arousal.

Reality crashed down on her and Sam spat out a “fuck!” before flopping aggressively back onto the mattress. Her core clenched emptily, and she muttered vicious obscenities into her pillow.

She wanted to throttle her hormones for conjuring up such a vivid dream, only to leave her hanging. She would’ve been more exasperated at the dream than angry—she’d had wet dreams before—but, well.

The voice in her ear had been unmistakable. The eyes over her, hungry at the sight of her seconds from coming apart, had been indisputable.

Her subconscious had conjured up a dream of Phantom fingering her to orgasm, and she’d never been so sexually frustrated in her life.

Her core throbbed insistently, and Sam caved, reaching under the waistband of her underwear. She was met with hot, sticky wetness, and it was damningly easy to coat her fingers. Unable to tease herself, she rubbed at her clit fast and hard. She tried hard not to think of anything in particular, but her brain decided to betray her once again. Images rushed into her head of Phantom, lips swollen from the pressure of their kisses, watching her as she writhed against him. The sound of him pushing into her.

She came quickly, but it was muted from the sole stimulation of her clit. Sam panted as she came down, slowly taking in what had just happened.

Sam rolled over and groaned into her pillow. “Ugh, fuck my life.”

* * *

“Hey, uh, Pandora, right?” Sam awkwardly approached the General.

“Yes, you are Samantha Manson, right?” The General boomed loudly. Sam felt her skull rattle.

“Yeah, it’s Sam.” Sam glanced around. “Ah, would you happen to know where Phantom’s quarters are?”

“King Phantom’s quarters are in the northernmost tower. Its entrance is five doors to the left of the grand hall, then up the staircase.” Pandora tilted her head. “Has the King summoned you?”

“No, uh,” Sam wrung her fingers. “Dora told me to give this envelope to him, saying she was probably in his quarters.”

Sam had wanted to say no to Dora. She had really, really wanted to. But Dora didn’t have any time, needing to rush off to some remote part of the Ghost Zone. The dragon ghost had pressed the envelope in her hands, demanded she not give it to anyone but the Ghost King, and then rushed off.

“Ah,” Pandora nodded in understanding. “Then you must make it in great haste.”

The Ghost moved to fly away, but Sam called out quickly. “Wait! Are you sure that you can’t deliver it to him? I’m sure you’ll see him sooner than I will!”

Pandora regarded her with the utmost seriousness. “If Dorathea declared that the message is urgent and must go directly to the Ghost King, then I cannot take it. You must go directly to the King.”

“Right,” Sam grimaced. She would argue more, except Sam strongly suspected that Pandora would break her in half.

Fuck, so much for getting this errand passed off to someone else. Sam had really, really hoped to avoid Phantom for, say, the next decade or so.

A sinking feeling in her stomach, Sam told herself to buck up. _Maybe he won’t even be there, Sam,_ she told herself. _And then she’ll be able to leave it and then hide in her room again._

Still, Sam dragged her feet as she made her way to the northern quadrant of the castle. Walking through a hallway that she’d walked past a dozen times, she noticed for the first time a small, nondescript door. The door had the stylized “P” engraved in the center. Sam found it weird that she’d never noticed it before.

Sam pushed it open easily and found a winding staircase with torches lighting the way. She cautiously climbed the stairs, keeping her eyes and ears open for other ghosts, but didn’t find anyone. Eventually she reached the top, and was met with a set of double doors made entirely out of wood and carved with images of the Ghost Zone. 

Hesitantly, Sam knocked on the door and waited.

No response.

“Hello?” Sam called out. “Anyone there? I have a message for King Phantom.”

Silence.

_Ugh._ Sam cautiously pushed at the door and, with a groan, it opened.

Sam stepped into the room.

Sam slowly took in the room. The room was dark and quiet, and surprisingly more muted than she expected of him. She had been imagining gaudy, gleaming and glittering pillars and furnishings which, now that she thought about it, didn’t really feel like the Ghost King she had come to know.

“What are you doing here?”

Sam yelped. Phantom stood in the doorway leading to one of the other rooms.

“I-Dora showed me how to get here.”

Phantom crossed his arms. “That doesn’t explain _why_ you’re here.”

Sam resolutely stared at the fireplace. She offered the piece of paper in her hand. “Dora told me to give this to you. She said it was urgent, and that it needed to go directly to you.”

She felt more than heard him approach. He took the paper, unfurled it, and was silent as he read its contents. He sighed explosively at whatever he read.

She eyed him. “Everything alright?” she ventured.

Phantom’s mouth quirked in wry irritation. “Just a complication with something I’d assigned to my Warden. Thank you for giving this to me.”

“Yeah, no worries,” she said casually and ignored the memory of desperately trying to hand the message to Pandora.

She knew that this was as good a time as any to leave, that she had fulfilled Dora’s request and now she could escape. But. She didn’t move.

Phantom noticed. “Is everything alright?”

Sam nodded jerkily. “Yes! Yes, everything is fine. I…” she coughed. Her cheeks flushed.

“You came here for something else.” It wasn’t a question.

Sam swallowed. Deep down, she knew he was right. She wanted more. She had desperately tried to fight it, but the wanting hadn’t abated. If anything, it had grown stronger.

“Just for this one time,” Sam whispered.

Phantom stepped closer, and Sam stepped back. Phantom kept advancing, and she countered back, until Sam’s back was pressed against the wall. In the dark shadows of the castle, Phantom exuded an ethereal glow, as if he had bathed in moonlight. She inhaled, and the scent of frost and an impending storm made her head spin.

“Just for this one time,” he echoed in a murmur.

Then he kissed her.

Sam felt her insides melt. Any resistance she had crumbled into dust. She clutched his shoulders and kissed back. All the emotions and desires she’d tried so hard not to think about came roaring back, and they deepened the contact. Phantom gripped her waist and grazed her lower lip with her teeth, surprising her enough to reflexively do the same.

She hadn’t expected the heat to flare up as quickly as it did. It felt like a small match had swelled into a roaring inferno. Her tongue slipped into the warmth of his mouth. He traced the outline of her tongue. A little moan escaped her, and that was all Phantom needed. He pinned her against the wall and Sam arched her back into him. There was a growl in Sam’s mouth, but it took a second for her to realize that it was his vocal chords that had made the sound. The noise shot through her like lightning, her body twitching into his hips. The rush of arousal that followed had her pulling back with a gasp. She fluttered her eyes open in time to see Phantom, a feral look on his face, before he reclaimed her lips. The sight was downright unfair; it felt like she had leapt into the grip of a black hole, and her fall into the center was inevitable.

Phantom shifted forward, keeping their mouths locked, as his hands drifted down to lift her by her thighs. Her shirt rose up and the sheerness of her tights ensured that she could feel every inch of his torso. Her back slid up the wall until he settled her right where he wanted, her legs parted and automatically wrapped around his waist. Sam couldn’t help the strangled noise that escaped her when his hardness dragged into her, right where she wanted.

Their mouths refused to break apart until Sam’s heart was about to burst from lack of oxygen. Mouth open and panting, Sam could only twist Phantom’s hair through her fingers as Phantom kissed over her jaw and down her neck. Sam’s shirt had rode up to bunch under her breasts from their grinding, and Phantom used it to reach between them and tug at her bralette, freezing her breast for his perusal.

“I-I… _Oh fuck_ , bed,” Sam gasped.

Phantom flicked his tongue over one nipple while rubbing the other with his fingers. All the while, his right hand held her up against the wall.

“I have a better idea,” he spoke into her skin. “I’ve been distracted for weeks imagining you pinned against this wall, your legs over my shoulders, as I eat you out.”

Sam felt her core convulse.

Phantom shot her a hungry grin, clearly seeing the shot of arousal on her face, because he returned his left hand to her thighs. Her legs felt shaky when Phantom lowered her back to the floor. Sam eagerly unzipped her skirt, letting it drop carelessly to the floor, and peeled off her tights and panties. As soon as the clothing was shedded, Phantom hoisted her back against the wall.

Phantom’s gaze taking her in felt like a physical touch. She shivered. Despite the strength and coordination it took to hold up a person, he held her up easily. He sunk down to his knees, so that his mouth was at the perfect height.

“You smell so fucking good,” he growled inches from her entrance. The need to feel something— _anything_ —felt almost unbearable. Sam tried to tilt her hips, bucking against him to get him to just touch her, but he tightened his hold on her thighs until her lower half was agonizingly still. But before Sam could do anything more, Phantom’s tongue gave one long lick, from entrance to clit, and _shit_ —

“Fuck, you’re dripping on my tongue.” Sam could only register the coarseness of Phantom’s voice before he dove back in like a starving man being presented a feast.

Sam jerked, her spine straightening as Phantom kissed and sucked at her. Her hand flung out against the wall, clawing at it, desperate for something to cling to as he flicked at her clit with his tongue. Her other hand found his hair and Phantom didn’t make a single protest when she gripped it a little too tight. Instead, he lapped at her entrance, groaning at the taste of her, and she had never felt so thoroughly pulled apart. She looked down and his eyes were already watching her. He caught every hitch in her breath, every facial expression, every rock of her hips. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, knew how to make her twitch and keen and fall apart under his tongue, and the knowledge drove her pleasure spiraling higher.

She should not find that as mind-meltingly hot as she did, Sam decided, but—fuck, he was flicking his tongue back and forth against her clit, and she was _coming_ , mouth dropping open wide and noises escaping her as pleasure consumed her.

Sam felt the curve of his lips as he licked her slowly with a smirk. She was still coming down from her orgasm, but it didn’t sate the need for more. It didn’t ease the raging emptiness in her.

“Now,” Sam rasped, tugging at him. She only now realized he was fully dressed, which was wretchedly unfair. In a baffling feat of maneuvering, Phantom managed to rise to his feet without sacrificing her sliding down the wall even an inch. Sam found the catch of Phantom’s jumpsuit, and then Phantom was deliciously bare from the waist up. Sam found a wonderful cord of muscle at his neck and made it her personal mission to make it pink and dark with her teeth and tongue.

Phantom hissed, and then she could feel him dragging the head of his cock against her folds. “Are you sure?” he growled at her.

“Just fuck me already—” Sam cut off with a moan as he finally slid home.

“Hold onto me then.” Sam barely had time to lock her fingers around his neck before he stepped away from the wall. It was only his hands at her waist that kept her from falling, and her upper torso fell back as she hung by her grip on his neck, but then he thrusted and the angle and power of the motion felt divine. After days of frustration and confusion and desire, Sam closed her eyes and just lavished in the sensation of him filling her, the pressure of his hands at her waist and her thighs. 

Sam knew that Phantom’s intentions weren’t pure. He had always been straightforward about his intentions for her: he intended to destroy her before killing her. Sam was under no illusions; she knew that this was just another way to break her. But, despite her best efforts, she wanted him, and she was so tired of fighting it. So she would give in and have this for herself, and suffer the consequences later. Right then, in this moment, the future pain was worth it.

Sam took in Phantom, the hard lines of his torso, the lines of his abs as he moved within her, and mostly the myriad of emotions on his face—pleasure, possessiveness, lust—and Sam pulled herself closer to him and kissed him. She wasn’t sure who was making which noise, only that he was moving faster in her and sending tingles throughout her abdomen. The angle of his cock had the head of him brush against her G-spot with every movement, and her muscle contracted.

Phantom moaned. “Fuck, you feel amazing.” With one hand palming her ass, the pace became slower, but the deliberate, sensual slide of him in her had the tingles multiplying until her hips were writhing at the pleasure sending pins and needles across her thighs and fingertips.

“Fuck, fuck yes, there!” She arched her back, clinging to him as the pleasure roared through her. Phantom threw his head back and moaned, his pace stuttering as he came powerfully within her.

Sam, boundless in the aftermath, could only vaguely sense herself falling back. Someone caught her, and Sam succumbed to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Still there? 🙈
> 
> Please, please let me know what you think of this chapter and also the fic in general so far!!! I'm desperate for your thoughts, even if it's a comment that says "extra kudos!"
> 
> Also, I realized I forgot to include the entire description of Phantom's Council last chapter, so here it is:
> 
> King’s Second: Frostbite 
> 
> Marshal: Skulker  
> \- responsible for all law enforcement, their town; enforcement for local and state laws or ordinances. Also responsible for securing kingdom’s borders
> 
> General: Pandora  
> \- highest ranking member of the king’s military 
> 
> Councilor: Dora  
> \- liaison between citizenry and other kingdom’s leaders, parsing requests from the commonwealth and presenting the leader’s proclamations to the people in understandable ways. Councilor’s responsibility to make sure the Ruler is making decisions that benefit the kingdom’s communities and its citizens
> 
> Grand Diplomat: Ember  
> \- kingdom’s foreign and domestic policy
> 
> Royal Enforcer: Poindexter  
> \- deals with punishing criminals, working with the Councilor to make sure citizens are adequately dealing w wrongdoers, and working w the Marshal to capture fugitives from the law
> 
> Spymaster: Spectra  
> \- observes criminal elements and spies on other kingdoms; uses acquired information to protect interests of the kingdom 
> 
> Warden: Walker  
> \- responsible for enforcing laws in larger settlements, ensuring the safety of the kingdom’s leaders
> 
> See you all next week!!


	7. sweet little lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reviewer from last chapter brought this up, so I thought I'd share my response here: pregnancy is not something that's going to be considered in this fic. In addition to being somewhat of a logistical nightmare on my end to navigate a pregnancy with all the other things happening (or will happen) in the plot, Sam would be absolutely overwhelmed if she had to deal with a ghost-human hybrid baby on top of everything she's facing. This means that pregnancy or protection is not going to be talked about in this fic; _however_ , that doesn't mean that talking about protection or protected sex isn't sexy in real life. I wanted to emphasize that since protected sex isn't something that's discussed a lot of times in fic.
> 
> Anyway, onto the next chapter! This is another long chapter, so strap in.

Sam returned to consciousness in a moment. Her eyes felt glued shut and her head was filled with cotton. 

She yawned and stretched, her muscles deliciously sore.

A weight sank the mattress behind her as a form settled at her back. Sam hummed and arched her spine. It was only then that she was completely bare, sheets caressing her skin.

A hand rested just above her hip. It trailed up, curling around her side, lazily over her skin. Any point of contact left tingles in its wake, urging a response.

The fog of sleep slowly dissipated, giving away to desire blooming in her center. Sam inhaled deeply as the hand found her nipple, tracing around the areola. Two fingers enclosed one nipple and twisted, sending a jolt of painful pleasure straight to her sex.

Sam moaned and opened her eyes. The hand twisted and tugged at her nipple. Her entire body was flushed. Lips explored the side of her neck, and Sam saw a glimpse of silver hair at the corner of her vision before he bit on a cord of sensitive muscle. Her legs shifted restlessly. 

Phantom continued to slowly, painstakingly touch every part of her body except for the one she needed most. He alternated between one and the other with one hand, his attention between the two unpredictable. She had never paid much attention to her chest, not finding much pleasure from touching them. Now, in the arms of the Ghost King, she was questioning how much she knew about her own body. Desires and wants that she had never even dreamed of were awakening within her. There was no room for panic or confusion. The need and pleasure consumed everything.

She pressed her body back, sliding against the hard ridges of muscle. It was not difficult to find the evidence of Phantom’s arousal pressed against her lower back.

The animalistic noise that escaped Phantom made Sam’s whole body throb. She felt like a quivering mess, her thighs trembling and her hands fisting into the mattress and sheets. She knew exactly what she wanted. What she needed. 

_Just fuck me_ , she thought. The thought was tinged with desperation.

Phantom only had to nudge her thigh for her to part her legs. He parted her folds with two fingers, exposing her heated flesh to the air. He groaned into her jaw.

“I can smell you,” he growled into her skin.

Phantom slid a single digit into her. The sensation both brought relief, her hips arching back to bring his finger deeper into her, and a deeper hunger growing in her core.

Phantom curled his finger, pressing against that one spot inside her as he rubbed his thumb against her clit. The broken gasp that escaped her throat did nothing to lessen the rush of pleasure intermixed with _need_ for more. 

“Phantom,” Sam’s voice shook, “I need…”

“I know what you need.” He pushed another finger inside of her, and the filling relief had Sam’s whole body twitching, urging the fingers to go deeper. He knew exactly what he was doing with those fingers, and he was _wicked_ in how he teased her.

It didn’t take long for the teasing to become too much, for the desire to become more like _need_. Sam grabbed his wrist tightly and twisted her head so that she could say tightly to his face, “If you keep on teasing me, I _will_ pin you to this bed and show you what it’s like to be on the receiving end.”

The look Phantom gave her in response should _not_ have sent another rush of arousal through her. “Tempting,” he said, and now Sam was distracted, imagining her following through on her promise. But the fantasy was disrupted when Phantom wrapped an arm around her waist and his cock was brushing her entrance. “Maybe another time,” he murmured into her ear.

Sam moaned as Phantom entered her. Her fingers tugged at the sheets, scrambling for purchase, for something to anchor her. The points of contact set alight every nerve into an all-consuming fire. Sweat beaded across her skin, her hair sticking to the nape of her neck. All the sensations felt so good and he felt so good, stretching her and her muscles so soon after their activities from the night before. Or maybe it was because he was slowly, deliberately increasing the pace of his thrusts. Or maybe it was because he was teasing her nipples into stiff, aching peaks. Either way, with each stroke she was losing her ability to think. She found herself clawing at the bed and the sheets, grasping at his arm and meeting each thrust. Anything to keep herself on the edge of this cliff, even if every action was trying to push her over the edge.

As if he knew the struggle she was losing, Phantom trailed his hand lower, unerringly finding her clit. Sam almost convulsed as he circled the nub. Sam’s arousal spiraled higher and higher, until she was certain she was going to combust from it—and then her climax rushed through her. Sam’s mouth opened in a silent scream, utterly lost in the pleasure that overwhelmed her.

Sam vaguely heard the hitch in Phantom’s pants before he stifled a moan in her neck as he came.

Sam was still catching her breath when she could hear the vibrations of his voice saying carefully, “I’ve been wondering for a while…”

She tilted her head up on his chest to see the line of his jaw and throat. She had never heard him put so much thought into his words before. “What?” she questioned.

“When you were hunting Undergrowth,” Phantom said slowly, and Sam couldn’t help but tense, the high from her orgasms fading away, “it sounded like he personally knew you. And you did too. Like, you had some history.”

In any other situation, she would’ve laughed at how awkward and human he sounded. “We did,” she acknowledged reluctantly.

It was so obvious how much he wanted to ask in the way he shifted underneath her, his hands never settling on one place on her skin. She blindly reached back, pressing them still, and sighed. Phantom was too curious not to just let this go; he was going to find out eventually.

Determined not to see his face when she told him this story, she spoke into his skin. “The first time Undergrowth came to conquer the human world, I was a sophomore in high school. Even though it was only a few years ago, ghost hunting wasn’t as good or as technologically advanced back then as it is now. Amity quickly lost to Undergrowth, and everyone was taken over. Including me.”

His hold on her tightened. She continued distantly, “In some ways, I was lucky. The majority of people who died were killed off quickly, when he was first taking over, but because I had a particular distaste for urban blight and human-caused global warming, Undergrowth believed I could be put to better use.

“So, instead, he invaded my mind and…molded it into his image.” Her fingers curled into fists at the memory. “I became the Caretaker, loyal only to my ‘father,’ the plant ghost himself, who was dedicated to caring for plant life and considered humans to be disgusting meat bags that were only useful for sustenance or labor. I ordered my neighbors, my classmates, even my own parents like dogs, and punished them cruelly, with a kind of pleasure.”

He spoke up at the bitter loathing in her voice. “That’s not your fault,” he said firmly. She could sense how he was struggling to restrain the dark energy rippling through him, his wrath running hot under his skin.

“I know,” Sam snapped at him tiredly. It had taken months of therapy that her parents had forced her to attend to realize that, but it didn't mean that she didn’t hate that she did it. Or had the occasional moment of self doubt. Not wanting to dwell on it anymore, she charged through with the rest of the story. “Anyway, the only reason Undergrowth didn’t win was because of Maddie Fenton. She managed to avoid the Mind Vine that had taken over the town and developed a weapon that actually managed to hurt Undergrowth. She freed me from his control, and we managed to stuff him into a Fenton Thermos.”

“It’s amazing that the two of you managed to defeat a ghost that powerful,” Phantom commented. She had earned the admiration of the Ghost King. Even though his respect didn’t validate her in any way, Sam still felt a sliver of smug pride. And her parents kept on saying that ghost hunting made you dishonorable, disrespected, and a social outcast.

She was always realistic, though. “We won, but just barely. Undergrowth made me realize how screwed humans were if we didn’t step up and _do_ something about it. So I asked Mrs. Fenton to train me in ghost hunting.”

“And here you are,” he concluded.

Here she was. Sleeping with the Ghost King.

Sam turned to face away from him.

They didn’t speak again for the rest of the night.

* * *

During her nights in the Ghost Zone, Sam had started wandering the halls of the castle, exploring nooks and crannies. 

The castle was massive, and Sam had yet to find the same hallway twice. Though, one of the rooms she had found was a ginormous library two times the size of Skulk and Lurk that Sam had spent two entire nights in, because _ghost books_. 

But her most amazing discovery didn't come from the castle. It came from tripping over a fold in a rug and, instead of greeting a wall with her face, tumbling right through it. 

_Holy shit, it's like all her birthdays combined._

Because being able to phase through any physical object within the Ghost Zone was really fucking cool. Sam figured that it was because the rules of physics flipped being in the Ghost Zone. Ghosts could phase through objects in the human world, so humans could phase through things in the ghost world. Now, Sam could theoretically scare the daylights out of Youngblood, the child pirate ghost that caused a ruckus around the castle, and Skulker (they truly deserved it after pranking her and Ember), but her access to the castle had expanded tenfold. 

Since then, she had used her newfound trick to explore further than she'd ever gone before. Some rooms were boring, used for storage and stuff, but others were infinitely cooler. One night, she had phased through a heavily locked door to enter a lab unlike anything she'd ever seen at the Fentons’. Beakers containing ingredients and even creatures floated several feet away, arranged from floor to ceiling with no ladder in sight. Sam guessed that ladders and elevators and such were unnecessary in the Ghost Zone. 

Another night, she came across something that wasn't as awesome. 

“Your Grace, with all due respect, this is no longer something that you can ignore.”

Sam wheeled backwards sharply, sticking to the shadows of the room. 

She was deep below the ground floor of the castle, and the walls here were made of bulging stone instead of the drywall-like material above. With no natural light, the shadows were deeper here, the wall torches barely piercing through the darkness.

Around the corner from Sam stood Phantom and a familiar ghost. The ghost looked as if she were prepared for war, with gleaming golden armor over a black robe and a glowing staff in her hand. Her golden helmet spewed purple fire. _Pandora_ , Sam recognized. Sam’s stomach clenched at the sight of Phantom.

“There's nothing to ignore,” Phantom snapped at his General. 

“Do not fool yourself,” Pandora warned him. “Look at the evidence before you! Sixteen ghosts imprisoned from disobeying your orders not to harm your human. You’ve been lucky she hadn’t encountered any during her time here.”

_Your human_. They were talking about her, Sam realized.

“If any decide to disobey my orders while I’m here, then they have to worry about more than just imprisonment.” Phantom’s tone had Sam flashing back to when he had his hand at her throat. A shiver ran down her spine from the memory.

“Your Grace,” Pandora grew impatient, “there is a simple solution to this: send her back.”

“Pandora,” Phantom warned.

“She is well enough. Frostbite has assured you that the poison is out of her system. She is no longer in any danger. She can go home.”

_What?_

Anger began bubbling in the pit of Sam’s stomach.

“She stays here. I don’t want to hear about this again, Pandora.”

_Oh, we’ll see about that._

* * *

Sam made no effort to pay attention to where she was going, too angry to do anything but spew vitriolic mutterings. So many emotions churned within her and, embarrassingly enough, she could actually feel tears welling up in her eyes. Frantically rubbing them away, she stopped and forced herself to find somewhere dark and empty to hide and wallow, but to her dark amusement, she had no idea where she was.

Looking around at her clearly foreign and ghostlike surroundings, Sam had never wished for home more.

“Lost, child?”

She really needed to stop startling when ghosts snuck up on her. Honestly, she should be expecting it now. And why did half the ghosts she met have to call her child? 

She eyed the unfamiliar ghost warily. Appearance-wise, he was the oldest ghost she’d ever seen, with a long, greying beard, wrinkles, and a hunched back. The cloak, hood, and staff gave him a mysterious, wise aura that reminded her of her bubbe.

“I’m okay, thanks,” she responded, polite but still suspicious. No matter how vulnerable or innocent a ghost looked, they were still capable of doing a lot of damage.

He floated past her to gaze at one of the paintings hanging on the wall. Between one second and the next, he shifted, and suddenly she was watching a small ghost child stare up at the artwork.

Sam blinked rapidly, but the kid was still there.

“Curious,” the ghost said in the same deep, resonating voice he’d had when he was really old, “how this castle has stood the test of time, still bearing old marks and blemishes.”

She glanced briefly at a downright terrifying figure in an eyepatch in the painting. “What makes it so surprising that this castle is unchanged?”  
  


“Changes of regimes often cause much history—especially art—to be lost,” he replied, now a fully grown adult, clean-shaven and healthy.

That piqued her interest. “Someone ruled the Ghost Zone before Phantom?” she asked incredulously. In all of her lessons on the history of the Ghost Zone, there was always one constant: Phantom was the Ghost King, and the Ghost King was Phantom. There was never even a hint of a king before Phantom. Sam didn’t think that the thoughts had ever occurred to humans before.

“Long ago,” the ghost clarified, “the ghost Pariah Dark ruled. His reign was feared by all ghosts, and he led ghosts with an iron fist. He was the most powerful ghost in existence…until another came and chose to end Pariah’s domination.”

_Phantom._

“It was just as well,” the ghost mused. “Pariah threatened all ghosts opposing him by terrorizing their ancras.”

“Ancras?” Sam repeated. She had never heard that word before.

“It is an old word, not used as often anymore. You might be more familiar with its colloquial version, obsession.”

He continued, not seeing Sam’s stunned expression. “I am not particularly fond of the term; it does not truly encompass the significance of an ancra.”

“And what is the true significance?” Sam fought to keep her voice even. She desperately hoped he didn’t get suspicious of her intentions and clam up.

The look in his eyes remained through his shift from fully grown to elderly. There was a moment of silent speculation from him, and just when Sam figured he had seen through her innocent act, he was speaking. “The two natural states of existence act as two sides of a coin. Since the dawn of time, the cycle of being has existed: life, then death. Once your life is over, you move on from this plane; there is no going back. There are no shortcuts and no changing the flow of the cycle.

“Ghosts defy the natural cycle. We exist in a state of death on the living plane. It’s a phenomenon that shouldn’t be possible; any soul that tries to stay in the living plane can’t hold on. It’s only if a soul has an anchor—something or someone that keeps them grounded on the living plane—then they can exist outside of the natural cycle.”

“Which is where the stereotype of a ghostly obsession came from,” Sam realized out loud. “Ghosts can get irrational or destructive, but they’re not mindlessly fixated for no reason; they literally rely on their obsessions to survive.”

Sam felt as if the floor had dropped out from under her. If everything she had learned about ghosts had been pennies, this was a goldmine, filled to the brim with precious stones and metals. If she brought this knowledge back, it would change everything humans knew and would know about ghosts. It would significantly impact future human-ghost interactions. They would be able to foresee and prevent so many disasters by knowing what a ghost’s ancra was.

Which begged the question… “Why are you telling me this?” she said suspiciously. “Who are you?”

“I am Clockwork, the Ghost of Time.”

Well, that explained the rapid change in age. “You mean you can see the future?”

“I see all futures,” he corrected. “I see what could happen, every twist and turn.”

That made him even more powerful than Undergrowth. Sam shifted uneasily. “Then, again, why tell me about the very reason why ghosts—even you—exist? Your Achilles’ heel?”

At that, his child form gave her a buck-toothed grin. “In time, you will know.”

He bowed to her, a smirk still affixed to his face. “A pleasure meeting you, My Queen.”

_Wait, what?_

“I believe it’s time to send you home.” He pressed a button on his staff, and the last thing she saw was Clockwork, before everything vanished in a swirl of purple smoke.

* * *

Sam appeared on a familiar sidewalk in Amity Park in the middle of the day.

It took a solid minute for Sam to process what exactly just happened. It took another minute to convince herself that she hadn’t been hallucinating, and that there wasn’t another perfectly reasonable conclusion behind what had happened.

When there wasn’t, Sam was left with one damning conclusion. Sam took a deep breath and shrieked, “ _WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUCK?_ ”

_Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay._ Ignoring the rather alarmed passers-by, she dropped to hug her knees, desperately needing something to anchor herself to reality.

Because it felt like her world had shattered. Imploded. Absolutely turned to rubble.

If that ghost Clockwork hadn’t been straight-up lying to her, then her expectation that Phantom would eventually tire of her and either leave her alone or just kill her, was completely wrong. If she were the Ghost King’s obsession, then he would never tire of her or kill her. She would be tied to him for beyond the rest of her life. 

Wait, no, stop. Sam slapped her hands against her cheeks. She was being delusional. Of course Phantom already had an ancra; he had been a ghost for at least a thousand years! He had to have found his obsession at some point. Also, how self-obsessed was she to immediately conclude that Clockwork meant that she, a rather insignificant human, was the Ghost King's ancra?

Sam felt herself calming down now that reason was taking over. Yes, she wasn’t Phantom’s ancra. If she could prove its existence, then she could be reassured. She would prove herself to be an overthinking idiot and be immensely relieved about it. 

First, she needed to go back to her secret apartment. She needed a weapon, felt bare without having one. Then, she needed to go to the library. Like, now. Sam pulled out her phone and turned it on. She winced; she had 132 unread notifications. Mostly from her parents, but also Tucker, the Fentons, and various other college friends.

She didn’t have the time or the patience to read and respond to each person. Instead, she typed a response to her parents— _I’m alive and unharmed, will come home when it’s safe_ —and silenced her phone. Then, she set off for Amity Park’s public library.

She had answers to find.

* * *

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve seen this many books in one room outside of the library.”

Blinking the sleep from her eyes, Sam eventually managed to focus on the newcomer’s face. “Oh my gosh, Tucker!”

She lunged at him for a hug, and he stumbled back a step. “Oof! Nice to see you too,” he choked. “Um, could you let me breathe, please?”

Sam released him and took in the red beanie and thick-framed glasses covering smiling eyes. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed her best friend. “What are you doing here?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Um, hello? Have you been paying attention this past week? I was a little concerned when the police showed up at my door and asked me if I’d seen my BFF at all since we left for summer break. Did I forget to mention the fact that you were _kidnapped by the Ghost King_ _and_ _went missing for three weeks_?!”

Like she could ever forget.

“Seriously, Sam.” The humor in Tucker’s voice faded away, replaced with real concern. “Are you okay?”

Sam blew out a shaky breath. She had the urge to blow him off, but if she wasn’t honest with Tucker, then who else could she be honest with? “No,” she admitted, “I don’t think I am.”

They both sat down, and Tucker leaned forward, his focus entirely on her. “Tell me,” he encouraged.

She swallowed tightly. She laid a hand on the book open in front of her. “Since I’ve gotten back, I’ve been trying to do research. I needed to confirm something I’d learned while in the Ghost Zone.”

“What is it?”

“I found out the reason why ghosts exist.”

Tucker’s face slackened in stunned disbelief. “What?”

“Clockwork told me—”

“Wait, wait, wait, back up. Who’s Clockwork?”

“The Ghost of Time, he told me—”

“Hold on a second!” Tuck’s voice rose an octave. “You’re telling me that there’s a Ghost of Time?”

“Tucker, that’s not the important part!” she said impatiently. “Let me finish—”

“Oh, well, if that’s not the important part. Please, go ahead.”

Rolling her eyes, half in irritation and half in fond amusement, she continued, “He told me that the only reason ghosts exist was because of their obsessions. He called them ancras. They keep ghosts anchored to the physical plane; if they’re harmed in any way, the ghost will go insane and destroy everything in its path, fade out of this plane, or both.”

She tapped the spine of a book from one of the stacks. “It’s mostly treated as ancient mythology or folktales; no one of significance believes in the tales. And I would’ve agreed, had a ghost not told me to my face that it’s the truth.”

It took a while for Tucker to digest that. “That’s… huge,” he said quietly. “It wouldn’t just change ghost hunting, it would change how we think of ghosts and how we treat them. It would change how the entire world functions.”

“Yeah. It would.” Sam stared at a piece of lint clinging to the collar of Tucker’s shirt.

“What did the Guys in White tell you about the ‘acas’ or whatever?”

“It’s ancras, and—” Her face twisted into a grimace. “I haven’t told them.”

“ _What?_ Dude, why?” His eyes searched her face for an explanation.

_Oh wow, she was going to tell him_. Her arms were wrapped around herself and she knew that she had to tell him, but there was a weight inside her, crushing her insides.

“Sam.” Apparently, she was pretty transparent in her terror, because Tucker seemed to have forgotten his outrage and was back to being a concerned and supportive best friend. For all the times she’d rolled her eyes at how silly and laid back he was at certain things, he was dead serious now. “What is it?”

She fixed her gaze on the piles of research in front of her. “I’ve been looking into everything we know about Phantom,” she began haltingly. “Every report, every history book, even the mythological accounts from thousands of years ago. And even with thousands of years of accounts and stories, there’s no hint of any object or place or person that could’ve been his obsession.”

“Maybe it’s in the Ghost Zone,” Tucker suggested. “I mean, it’s probably safer to have your obsession in your own dimension.”

Sam was already shaking her head. “It can’t be. If it were a place, then he physically couldn’t have moved it into his home turf—not without us knowing about it, at least. If it were a person, then they’d have died thousands of years ago and either the entire Earth would be decimated or we would’ve had a Ghost Queen or another Ghost King for about as long as we could remember having a Ghost King. And if it were an object, well, I would’ve seen it at some point while I was with him.” He had shown no particular interest in any one thing the entire time she’d been with him; there was no way he had an object ancra.

“Okay…” he said slowly. “So then maybe this Clockwork dude was lying then? What does this have to do with your reason to not tell anyone about ancras?”

“Before he sent me back to the human world, Clockwork said, ‘A pleasure meeting you, My Queen.’”

There was a moment of silence. Then, “No fucking way.”

Sam gripped her arms tighter. “So, yeah. That’s why I didn’t tell them.”

“You’re joking, right? There’s no way you could be the Ghost King’s obsession—”

“I think I am,” she whispered, staring without focus on the books in front of her. It explained everything—why he decided to follow her everywhere after meeting her, why he had become so irrationally protective of her when she had been in danger and hurt. It also, admittedly, explained the electricity that was always between them, the sexual tension that was so strong that she couldn’t help but give in. It explained why, in all the moments when he was angry with her, in all the moments when she defied him, he didn’t kill her when he'd killed so many for far less. He’d toyed with her at the beginning, threatened to kill her, and had recently lied to her, but it had been a while since she’d been afraid for herself because of him.

It didn’t explain her own feelings about _him_ , why she had felt this draw. But it had to be related somehow, didn’t it?

Tucker still didn’t buy it. “It can’t be. If what you’re saying about ancras are true, how did he survive several millennia without one?”

“I don’t know! I only know what Clockwork told me and what I’ve read.”

“Then you could be wrong.”

Deep down, Sam knew that she wasn’t wrong, but she still said, “Yes, I could be wrong. But if I’m right, and I told the Guys in White…”

“You’d lose everything,” Tucker realized, coming to the same grim conclusion she had. “You’d become a bargaining chip, something the human race would use to force the Ghost King to leave them alone. And then—”

Sam said tonelessly, “Phantom would destroy everything to protect his ancra, and they wouldn’t stand a chance. People would die. A lot of people.”

Tucker swallowed, clearly not liking the picture being painted. “Okay, I see your point,” he allowed, “but that’s under the assumption that you’re his obsession in the first place.”

“Then help me figure out how to know for sure,” she beseeched, her hysteria over all this madness and uncertainty escaping. “Because I’d really like to know if I'm the only thing keeping the Ghost King tied to the physical plane.”

He opened and closed his mouth. Then, his jaw jutted out. “Tucker Foley, researcher genius at your service.”

He pulled out the smartphone he'd built from scratch, the one she’d never seen him without, and determinedly began tapping away.

“Hey, Sam, what—” Tucker laughed. “Dude, get off me and let me work. I missed you too.”

* * *

After four hours of researching, Sam’s nerves were completely frayed. Tucker had fallen into a deep sleep twenty minutes ago, after he’d scoured the entire internet, looked into some not-so-legal databases, then hit the books with her.

And even after all that time and effort put into finding some shred of evidence of the Ghost King’s obsession...they’d come up empty. After searching in every single document mentioning Phantom or the Ghost King, Sam would’ve doubted the existence of ancras at all. But, there were a small handful of somewhat credible sources speculating on the reasoning behind why ghosts often got “obsessed” about a particular person or object. Most of them believed that the forming of an obsession was related to the former personality of the ghost when they were alive, in addition to how they died. All of them agreed that, when a ghost had an obsession and it was destroyed, the ghost would go mad and had destructive tendencies until the ghost perished. None of them mentioned the idea that _all_ ghosts had an obsession, or that a ghost could go for some length of time without an ancra. None of them said anything about the ancra itself, and how the connection affected it. The sources were _there_ , but they were super obscure and the works hadn’t been mentioned by a single researcher since publication.

In other words, Sam hadn’t found a single piece of proof contradicting Clockwork. But it wasn’t great evidence either.

Sam buried her gritty eyes in her hands. What was she going to do now? Keep looking? Go to another library, scour all the books, and then do it again if nothing came up?

She could just go to Phantom and demand answers. Sam just as quickly dismissed that thought. Firstly, Sam had zero desire to see him. Secondly, she couldn’t trust that he would tell the truth; she’d thought he had been truthful when he had said it wasn’t safe to leave the castle, but it had turned out he’d been lying to her face the entire time. Nor could she trust any of the other ghosts she’d met during her time in the Ghost Zone; they were all completely loyal to Phantom.

A thought struck her, and she clung to it. Sam quickly closed all the books and stacked them neatly. She left Tucker snoring on a table in the library; she would have woken him up, but then he’d want to know where she was going and come with. And Sam needed to do this alone. She’d thank him profusely and apologize for ditching him later.

Sam decided to take public transportation, because she didn’t have her car, nor did she want to deal with calling a taxi or rideshare. Using the public bus, it took her half an hour before she got off the bus, then another ten minutes’ walk until she arrived at her intended destination.

Sam walked through the doors of the Amity Assisted Living Community, and asked to see her grandmother.

Once she was outside her grandmother’s room, Sam hesitated. Was this a good idea? Danger seemed to follow in her wake recently; she wondered if she was bringing it to her grandmother’s doorstep.

But Sam felt so lost and so incredibly lonely right now. And whenever she’d felt this way before, her grandmother had always known how to make her feel better. Sam needed that now more than anything.

With that, Sam knocked twice.

“Come in,” her grandmother called.

The room Ida Manson had was spacious and everything you could wish for in a home. Despite Sam’s parents wanting their own space away from the criticism and judgment from the old woman, the pair had clearly felt guilty about it, and had spared no expense for the Manson matriarch’s new home.

Ida sat in her living room chair, playing a game of solitaire. While well into her eighties, Sam’s grandmother was as healthy as an ox. She went on walks regularly, played poker with her friends on the weekends, and cooked her own meals.

She was also Sam’s favorite member of her family.

Ida’s eyes lit up at the sight of her grandchild. “Samantha,” her bubbe said delightedly. “This is a surprise.”

Sam shut the door with a smile and went to give her grandma a hug. “How have you been, bubbe?”

Sam went to sit across from her bubbe as the older woman waved a hand. “Eh...same old, same old. Your mother still doesn’t see me as often as she should, and Edith from next door doesn’t stop complaining about her hip.”

“How have poker nights been? Still kicking some ass?” Sam winked.

Her grandma snickered. “These kids from the local high school visited to keep us company. I invited a couple of them to play poker with us. We cleaned house.”

Sam tilted her head back and burst out laughing. “Bubbe, you didn’t!”

Her bubbe sniffed. “It’s not my fault they think we’re senile. The idiots even put more money down after the first round.”

Sam was still laughing. “How much did you win?”

“Hundred bucks,” Ida grinned as her granddaughter shook her head in amusement. “Don’t worry! I gave it back to the suckers after teaching them some pointers.”

Sam chuckled fondly. “Shows them right for trying to bet with money. I learned not to use money with you at eleven.”

“That’s because you’re a smart girl, unlike most of these dolts.” Ida eyed her critically. “How are you, bubeleh? Has summer been boring you to death?”

Sam sobered quickly, her previous worries returning to her in a rush. “Nothing really,” she said casually. “It’s mostly been ghost hunting and going to Skulk ‘n Lurk.”

“Oh? I would’ve sworn you’d find the summer more entertaining after being kidnapped by a ghost and threatened by the Guys in White again.”

Shit. Sam should have known better than to expect her grandmother to be completely in the dark. “How did you find out?” Sam asked ruefully.

Her grandmother rolled her eyes. “Who do you think your mother called first after learning you had disappeared injured in the arms of the Ghost King? The poor woman was in denial and calling every single person she knew. Also, I do watch the news.”

Sam sighed. She was going to be grounded for the rest of her life.

Her bubbe laid her hand across Sam’s. “You’re alright?” she asked gently.

Sam fought the urge to laugh hysterically. _Oh yeah, bubbe, I’m just dandy. After being healed by a ghost yeti, I had deliriously hot sex with the Ghost King. Multiple times. And, I found out that I might be the only thing tying him to the physical world. Because I’m his obsession._

“You know that you don’t have to hide anything from me,” she reminded Sam.

“I know, I…” Sam hesitated. She hung her head. “I’m scared, bubbe. My life is falling apart and I feel like I don’t have any control.”

Ida hummed in sympathy. “Too many things in life try controlling things they’ve got no right to.”

“I just...I want my old life back,” Sam confessed quietly.

Ida raised an eyebrow. “Who said you couldn’t get your life back?”

“Fucking Clockwork and his ‘until next time, my Queen,’” Sam muttered bitterly.

“Queen?” her grandmother repeated sharply.

Sam blushed at her mistake. “Just something I heard. A rumor, really.”

“Mmm hmm…” Her grandmother wasn’t buying it at all.

“Anyway,” Sam said quickly, “I feel like there are these expectations of me and I don’t really know how to cope.”

For a second, Sam thought her grandmother was going to press her on it. Then, she said, “There’s a story I haven’t told you, back when I was...oh, twenty-four? Twenty-five? Your father was only a toddler, and my Izzy was balls deep in building the soon-to-be business from the ground up. I had my hands full taking care of your father, who was an absolute terror at that age, but I found myself...restless. I wanted to do something more. One day, I was walking past a storefront, and I saw a wanted poster of this company that was hiring telephone switchboard operators. Before I knew it, I found myself interviewing for a position, and I came home that night with a job. It was my first job.”

“How did grandpa and your parents react?” Sam asked. Sam knew how close her grandmother had been to her parents when she was young; they had lived two doors down from each other at one point. She also knew that her grandmother hadn’t been expected to do something like have a job and an income for herself when she was young.

“Oh, they were outraged,” her grandmother said plainly. “‘Why are you wasting your time working at that horrid place?’ they told me. ‘You have a child at home, who would take care of little Jeremy?’ Eventually I told them off, and I would drop off your father at his grandparents’ house before going to work. It wasn’t that I hated caring for your father; I liked doing something that gave me purpose, and earning money for myself when I had to rely on my parents’ or Izzy’s money for anything. That meant a lot to me.

“What I’m trying to tell you is that you always have a choice, bubleh,” her grandmother told her firmly. “People try to make you think you don’t. But the strongest people know that the choice is still theirs, and they _take_ it.”

Sam was silent as she processed her grandmother’s words. She was right; for so long, she’d thought her world was being controlled by Undergrowth, the Guys in White, her parents. But, when it really came down to it...she’d gotten free of the Guys in White after she’d broken free of Undergrowth. She’d flipped off her parents—literally and metaphorically—more times than she could count.

While this situation with Phantom was...well, different would be an understatement. But, ultimately, she had been the one who stopped Phantom from hurting the officer’s ghost and all of her old high school classmates. She had been the one who escaped and survived against the Guys in White, despite Phantom largely being the cause of it. She’d take fate into her own hands.

She’d been making choices for herself for a long time. She just hadn’t realized it. She was stubborn and strong-willed and she would make sure she would be the one to have the final call, no matter what anyone else said about it.

Sam gave her grandma a hug. “Thank you, bubbe. You have no idea how much that helped.”

Ida hugged her back just as tightly. “I’m always here for you. And I’m so proud of you.”

Pulling back, Sam gave Ida a watery smile. Her grandma patted her on the cheek before saying, “Now, enough of this deep nonsense. Let’s see how your poker skills are faring since I last saw you.”

Sam scoffed, but grabbed a deck of cards anyway. “You’re just trying to swindle your own granddaughter out of money.”

Ida put on a look of mock offense. “My own granddaughter thinking the worst of me. You need to come around more so that you realize I am the picture of good decisions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next week!


	8. particles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy October :D Anyone as excited for fall as I am?

Three hours later, Sam left the assisted living home, feeling lighter than she’d felt in a long time.

It was always liberating to talk to her grandmother; unlike Sam’s parents, Ida Manson had understood Sam even as a little girl. As many times as Sam had rebelled during childhood, Ida had never been mad; she’d wink at her, sneak her some of her favorite treats, and turn a blind eye whenever Sam sneaked out of the house. Sam had been mad for weeks after her mom had told her that they were sending her grandma to an assisted living home, when her parents were more than capable of caring for her.

Sam shivered lightly as she waited for the bus to come. It was well past sunset, and the summer heat had cooled as the sun had gone down. Crickets were chirping somewhere in the trees.

_Where to next?_ Sam wondered. Was it safe for her to go back home? Another question was whether she wanted to deal with her parents yet. If she really wanted to be cautious, she could go back to her apartment. She’d need to get groceries to cook dinner if she went to her apartment. Did she have to prepare for the next time Phantom showed up? Would she actually see him again? 

There was a faint rustle in the trees behind her. The back of Sam’s neck prickled. She looked behind her, but all she saw was some bushes and trees. The street itself was empty but for her, with no sign of passing cars.

_You’re being paranoid_ , Sam told herself. Nevertheless, Sam shifted into a solid, steady stance. Her hand drifted towards her pocket, where she had stored a case of wristrays from her apartment.

The crickets stopped chirping. A howl echoed from somewhere in the distance, and the ominous sound crawled up the base of her spine.

Where was the bus? It should have been there by now.

There was another rustle, and Sam had her wristrays out and armed in an instant, ready to fire. There was a chill in the air, far too unnatural for it to be regular weather. There was something out there.

The howling abruptly stopped. A branch snapped behind her, and Sam swung around, firing at a shadow.

“Whoa!” The shadow yelped. “Easy, easy.”

_It was just a guy_ , Sam realized. A human guy in his late twenties or so with long brown hair. He held his hands out assuringly.

“What are you doing?” Sam said loudly.

“Uh… I was walking to meet my sister,” he gestured to the glittering lights of the city behind her. “Can you put down your arm? You’re making me nervous.”

Sam hesitated, then slowly lowered her arm. “Where does your sister live?”

The guy chuckled. “That’s quite a personal question.” He sidled closer.

Something still felt off about this. She just didn’t know what. “Look, I’m sorry about firing at you. Enjoy visiting your sister.”

The guy didn’t back down. “Where are you off to?” he asked casually.

Sam took a step back, her arm twitching. “None of your business,” she said bluntly.

The guy tsked. “How rude of you! I was just asking you a question. Women these days.”

These days? He barely looked older than her. Also, what an asshole.

“How about I walk you home, Samantha?” the stranger coaxed. He was only a few steps away.

So many alarm bells went off in Sam’s head. She raised her hands, her hands spread out in a ready position. “How...how do you know my name?”

He stepped into a beam of light cast by a streetlight. His slitted eyes narrowed. “Come with me,” he commanded.

Sam moved to strike, to push the stranger away, but it was too late. He grabbed her wrist with bruising force. Sam reacted at once, seizing his wrist and twisting so that his elbow and shoulder belt at an unnatural angle. He had to release her or risk a dislocated joint. Sam stomped his foot for good measure. He hissed in pain, and a forked tongue flickered out.

_Ghost._

“Insolent child,” the ghost snarled. “You’ll pay for that.”

Pretense gone, the ghost gripped her forearms and hauled her off her feet. Mind kicking into survival mode, Sam kicked him in the balls. The ghost screamed in rage, and Sam broke his grip on her. She landed hard on the concrete. Her hip twinged. Barely noticing the pain, Sam armed her wristray and fired. She hit him straight in the chest, blowing him back several feet.

Sam didn’t let up. She fired again and again and again, even as the ghost screamed and snarled. Even at full power, the blasts seemed to act more like a kick in the chest than the debilitating blow she was hoping for. At some point, the wristrays would die, and she’d be defenseless. Her Fenton Thermos was in her bag, but it would take two hands to unscrew and time she didn’t have.

Her heartbeat pounded loudly in her ears.

In a split-second decision, Sam turned and ran, fast and hard. The best chance she had was getting back downtown and hiding. Or getting a stronger ghost weapon somehow. She cursed the fact that the Fentons were on the opposite side of the city. 

She kept on running. 

She didn’t even hear the whooshing sound until it was just behind her. Something rammed into her back. Sam yelped as she landed hard on her palms. A force pinned her to the ground. 

“How dare you,” a booming voice roared. “Firing at a king! I’ll have you drawn and quartered for your insolence!”

Sam tried to twist out of whatever was over her, but its grip was unyielding. She strained to look over her shoulders. Were those...claws?

“I’ll rip you apart limb by limb and chew on your bones for lunch! I’ll cut off your hand and mount it to my wall!”

The thing over her shifted as it ranted, allowing Sam to tilt her head ever so slightly.

The thing above her was... _a dragon?_

“Nevermind what he said before. Killing you will bring the same outcome. It is my right as King.” The dragon leaned forward. Its foul, fiery breath washed over her.

Sam gagged at the heat and the smell.

“What are you talking about, you’re not the King!” Sam yelled. 

The ghost dragon reared back in offense. “That Phantom welp should never have become King!” the dragon screeched. “ _I_ should have been King! I have the royal blood; it’s my birthright! And the throne will be mine soon; as soon as I burn you to a crisp!”

The ghost’s scaled maw opened wide, and Sam could see the back of its throat burn bright with fire.

A roar startled them both. A large mass crashed into the dragon. The dragon’s flames missed, charring the concrete just to the right of Sam. Sam’s scaly captor lost balance at the unexpected interference, toppling to the ground.

As soon as her cage of claws broke, Sam scrambled away, heart pounding at how close she’d come to being burnt to a crisp. 

“How dare—” The dragon’s bellow was interrupted by a snarl and another crash.

Sam’s first thought was Phantom, but those dreams were dashed at the sight of fur on her savior. The new ghost had the general shape of a wolf, but was the size of a large horse, and whose teeth and claws were grotesquely deadly. While the wolf-like ghost looked like a toy car next to a toddler compared to the size of the dragon, the wolf was quick and nimble, and his slashes seemed to work on the dragon scales.

The wolf narrowly avoided the swipe of the dragon’s tail, then darted forward and clawed the base of the dragon’s neck. The dragon screamed in pain and reared back, knocking the wolf away. With its attacker no longer so close, the dragon blasted fire at the wolf.

Then, the dragon noticed her, standing several feet away. _Oh, shit._ Sam moved to run, but the dragon had already fired a ball of flames. She wasn’t going to avoid it in time.

“Oof—” The wind was knocked out of Sam’s lungs. Her face was buried in fur. The wolf had knocked her away to safety. It was already standing in front of her protectively when Sam raised her head.

“You will pay for that, welp,” the dragon thundered.

The wolf didn’t respond. Instead, it raised its paw high, claws spread wide, and brought it down in a slashing arc.

The air ripped open, torn from the ghost’s claws. The rips in space grew until it formed a single, diagonal tear.

Horrible, sonorous ripples erupted from the tear. They traveled in an instant. It coalesced into a single sound, replete with rage.

“ARAGON!”

Even disoriented and in pain, Sam recognized who it was in her bones. It tingled across her senses.

Phantom shot out of the portal in a blur of motion. His power was blaze in an aura of searing intensity. 

The dragon, Aragon, hissed in frustration at the approaching threat. He shot a glare at Sam, but it seemed even he knew that was outmatched by a bloodthirsty Phantom.

The dragon sneered. “Soon,” he promised. Then, the dragon clasped the amulet around its neck. The dragon began to glow.

Phantom accelerated, closing the distance between himself and the dragon at a frighteningly quick pace. It wasn’t enough. The dragon’s form dissolved milliseconds before Phantom grabbed him.

There were no other signs of the dragon except for the charred spot of asphalt.

“Fuck!” Phantom’s fist crashed into the ground where he stood. With a crash, a small crater opened up, and cracks spread out from the center like spiderwebs.

He then spun wildly to find her still laying on the ground from when the ghost wolf had knocked her to the ground. Realizing her position, Sam pushed herself to her feet, wincing at the scrapes on her palms and knees. All the aches and pains she had were making themselves well known, now that she wasn’t in danger.

As she was rising, gloved hands helped pull her up and steady her. “Are you alright?” Phantom asked roughly. His aura still burned bright with ferocity, yet her skin didn't singe as he cupped her jaw. Sam caught herself from leaning into the touch.

Sam swallowed. “I’m fine. Mostly some scrapes and bruises. And maybe slight charring from almost being burnt to a crisp.”

Phantom was examining her from top to bottom as though he needed to see for himself. “I’m going to destroy him,” Phantom growled.

With some stubborn resistance, Sam stepped out of Phantom’s reach. “Yeah, that reminds me of a few questions I have. Namely, who the hell that dragon ghost was, why he was after me, and who is that ghost behind you?”

Phantom moved to reach for her, then stopped himself. He sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. He seemed to have mostly calmed down, that glow around him fading, though she could still feel the undercurrent of electricity under his skin. “The dragon you met is Aragon. He’s Dora’s older brother. Before my reign, Aragon ruled a small section of the Ghost Zone. When my predecessor was dethroned, Aragon had expected the rule of the Ghost Zone to be passed to him; it was given to me instead, and Aragon was pissed. Since then, he’s done everything he can to get me off the throne so he can take it for himself.”

“If he wants you off the throne, then why did he try to kill _me_ and not you?” Sam challenged.

He winced at her question. He looked at the street and trees surrounding them. “Look, let’s talk about this when we’re in a safe location—”

Sam stood her ground. “No,” she said firmly. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you give me answers.”

“Sama—”

“ _No._ ” Sam’s grandmother’s words echoed in her head. _You always have a choice._ “You lied to me before. I’m not letting that happen again.”

Phantom sighed loudly. He flicked his attention to the wolf ghost, who was standing silently and slowly flicking its tail back and forth. “Gardu nin kaj atentigu min pri iaj ajn minacoj,” Phantom said shortly.

The wolf replied, “Jes, mia Reĝo.” The creature then turned and faded into the trees.

Sam thought she might have hallucinated that entire exchange. “Was that Esperanto?”

Phantom startled Sam by grinning sheepishly. “Yeah, it’s the only language he knows.”

“And...who is ‘he’?”

“That’s Wulf, one of only a handful of beings that I trust.” Phantom paused. He said slowly, “After you...left, I sent Wulf to find you and to make sure you were safe.”

Sam blinked. “Are you...you’re telling me that after I escaped the Ghost Zone, when you had been misleading me into staying, _you sent someone to spy on me?_ ”

Phantom started, “Technically, yes—”

“ _Technically?_ ” Sam wanted to strangle him. “Who gave you the right to—”

“Look, I’m sorry, alright?”

Sam faltered mid-rant.

Phantom shifted restlessly. “I’m sorry that I lied to you and made you believe that you had to stay with me in the Ghost Zone. It wasn’t right of me to blindside you and keep you in the dark like that, and I promise that I’ll never do it again.”

Sam felt like she was hallucinating. _Was_ she hallucinating? 

“At first, I didn’t know what was happening. You caught me off guard, when I first met you,” Phantom said quietly. “I didn’t really take the time to analyze it. I didn’t even really see the signs for what they were. It wasn’t until after we kissed for the first time that I began to suspect what was happening. By the time I’d confirmed it, it was already too late to go back.”

Sam couldn’t breathe.

Phantom’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. He stared at her feet, unwilling to look at her. “I thought that I’d have more time to tell you this,” he said in frustration. Phantom inhaled deeply, then looked up at her with a steely expression.

“The reason why ghosts exist, especially for as long as they do, is because of their anchor that ties them to this world. A lot of times, it’s called a ghost’s obsession,” Phantom spoke quickly.

This couldn’t be happening.

“I didn’t really realize it for a while into my afterlife that I didn’t have the obsession that every other ghost I knew had. I dismissed it as an anomaly, one of the ‘gifts’ given to me as a ghost: I didn’t have an obsession, and would never need one. At least, I thought I didn’t...until I met you.”

Sam shuddered as the words left him. Now that they were out in the open between them, it felt as if something monumental had just slid into place. Something permanent.

“Samantha?” Phantom was watching her carefully, his eyebrows knit together.

Sam had expected herself to scream and rage if she ever confirmed that she was the Ghost King’s obsession. Either that or run far, far away. But, in the moment, she could only feel her heartbeat fluttering in her chest and a sense of calm.

Sam finally spoke. “And that’s why you sent that Wulf to watch over me.”

Phantom stared at her, seemingly half-surprised by her reaction. “After I found out that you’d left the Ghost Zone, I didn’t trust your safety outside of my protection in the castle. As soon as word gets out that you’re my ancra, any enemy I’ve made—ghost or human—would be after you. I-I knew you didn’t want to see me, especially after our...disagreement. I sent Wulf because, not only is he incredibly loyal to me, but he is one of the best trackers in the Ghost Zone and he has the special ability to create portals between the human world and the Ghost Zone.”

That tear in space Wulf had opened. All of the pieces were coming together.

“So me being attacked by Aragon proved that I’m in danger,” Sam concluded disquietly.

“Yes, it did.”

Sam nodded, hugging herself tightly.

A soft nudge from the side of his finger had her head tilting up to meet him. Her chest tightened at the way he looked at her through strands of silvery white hair. “I know you’re still mad at me. But you’re in very real danger. In my domain, in my castle, you’re guaranteed to be safe. So, I’m asking you, will you come back to the castle with me?”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know.”

Well, at least he wasn’t pulling a number out of his ass to get her to go with him. Still, she hesitated.

“We can figure something out so you’re not constantly under threat. But at least come back so that we can figure out a plan.” And then he grabbed her shoulders and said, “I have to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

Well, shit. He’d asked. He hadn’t demanded or bargained or threatened. He had given her the choice. And, in this absolute disaster of ghostly obsessions and kings and imminent peril, that was the thing that made her decision easy.

“Okay,” she murmured. “I’ll go back with you.”

* * *

Dora and Skulker were waiting for them when they stepped out of Wulf’s portal.

Dora sighed in relief. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re alright.” She snatched Sam’s right hand and fretted over the scrapes. “I’m so sorry that my brother attacked you, Sam,” she apologized.

“Don’t worry about it, Dora. It’s not like you were the one who almost barbequed me. Though...I have to ask: how did you end up Councilor to the Ghost King and your brother end up a traitor to the Ghost Crown?”

Dora riddled with her braid nervously. “Aragon was king of a fairly significant region of the Ghost Zone when Pariah ruled; it was the reason why Aragon didn’t particularly care about the atrocities Pariah committed. And, to Aragon," Dora averted Sam’s gaze, ashamed, "I...I was just this dumb, useless princess who couldn’t do anything right.

“That’s why, when Phantom became the new Ghost King, Aragon was...not pleased. He ordered me to join him in overthrowing Phantom, but…” She glanced at Phantom, who said nothing. Dora continued, ”I knew that if I let Aragon or another ghost take the throne, then I would be allowing more ghosts and humans to suffer and die. And I didn’t think I could live with myself if I did. Metaphorically speaking.”

Sam processed that. “That must have been hard to do,” Sam sympathized. “Turning your back on the only family you had to do what was right.”

Dora smiled. “I don’t regret it for a second,” the ghost reassured Sam. “The work I do is incredibly fulfilling, and I know the throne I’m serving under is a noble one.”

Sam smiled back at her, then glanced at Phantom.

Phantom spoke to Skulker. “I want a bounty on Aragon. Five million for his head, ten if he’s brought to me alive.”

“It will be done immediately, my King.” Skulker cleared his throat awkwardly. “There was another incident while you were gone.”

Phantom scowled dangerously. “I was only gone for a few minutes. What the fuck could have happened?”

“There was an attack on the Forever Frost. The Infi-map was taken.”

“ _What?_ ” Phantom’s shout shook the walls.

Both Dora and Skulker winced.

Phantom sucked in a breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose. In a controlled voice, he said, “Any casualties?”

Unsettled by his ruler’s reaction, Skulker said nervously, “None, sire. Only a few were injured. The intruders clearly had one purpose and didn’t care about making permanent damage.”

“Do we know who it was?”

Skulker shook his head. “They wore cloaks. But it couldn’t have been a coincidence that your obsession was attacked at the same time.”

“I was _bait?_ ” Sam broke in, outraged.

“Tell Spectra to figure out who the thieves were. And have Frostbite work with you to prepare for them misusing the Infi-map against us.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Skulker and Dora said in unison.

Phantom touched Sam’s shoulder. “Let’s get those scrapes looked at.”

Sam looked down at her hands and legs. Gashes littered her skin and bits of dirt and gravel were embedded in her skin.

Sam started brushing off the dirt. “It’s fine, it looks a lot worse than it is.”

“It looks painful and we have people here who can clean it.” Phantom insisted. “At least have Frostbite take a look at it? Please?”

Sam's stomach fluttered. “Fine,” Sam said grudgingly. There was a choking sound behind Sam, but Sam only caught Skulker hurrying out of the room. 

“You’re a lot calmer than I thought you would be about all of this,” Phantom commented cautiously.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s not like this is my first time in the Ghost Zone. And I’ve met Skulker and Dora before.” That, and him saying please was something she didn’t think she’d get used to.

Phantom cupped the back of his neck. “I was talking more about learning that you’re my obsession. I thought you’d be a lot more angry.”

“Oh. That.” Warmth flooded her cheeks. “I probably would have been. Or, I definitely was when I learned it might be a possibility.”

Phantom spluttered. “What? How did you learn about it?”

Sam shrugged. “Some ghost named Clockwork, I think.”

“Clockwork?” he repeated, then shook his head and said bitterly, “Of course it was Clockwork. That was how you got back to the human world. That ass.”

Sam didn’t think she’d ever heard Phantom sound so exasperated over someone. “You know him?” she queried.

Phantom snorted. “Kinda. He’s definitely an ally, and has helped make sure the Ghost Zone is safe. But, the guy’s too much of a smug know-it-all who likes keeping secrets.”

“Yeah, I kind of got that vibe from him too.”

“Did he say anything else when you were with him? Other than the ancra stuff.”

_Oh, just something about me being his Queen. Nothing major._

“Just some vague shit. Nothing meaningful,” Sam said vaguely as she walked towards the door. Then, she winced; the scrapes might have been deeper than she thought. “Maybe I’ll take some antiseptic.”

Phantom’s brows furrowed. Then, without any prompting, he ducked down and scooped her into his arms.

Sam yelped, grabbing at Phantom. “What are you doing?”

Phantom flew out of the room and through the hallways. “I’m taking you to get looked at by Frostbite.”

“I can walk there myself,” Sam protested. “I’m not a complete invalid.”

“It doesn’t make sense for you to walk and unnecessarily hurt yourself when I can carry you,” Phantom insisted.

Sam scowled, but kept her arms wrapped around his neck. Asshole.

“Oh dear,” Frostbite said as soon as he saw them.

As Frostbite fussed over Sam, Phantom and Frostbite discussed the recent theft, its implications, and next steps. The two eventually concluded that they wouldn’t decide anything until the Council meeting.

Frostbite gave her cooling salves and instructed her to rest. Sam thanked him.

“You get some rest, Great Huntress. It’s been a while since you’ve slept, hasn’t it?” he gently accused her.

Guilty. It’d been, what, more than twenty-four hours since she’d slept? She wasn’t sure how time worked in the Ghost Zone.

"Come on, I'll take you to your room," Phantom said. He was scowling again.

Frostbite waved goodbye at the both of them, then Phantom led her through the hallways until they reached a familiar door. The same room she'd stayed in last time.

Sam paused at the door to her room. She had a question on the tip of her tongue, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted the answer.

No, she wanted to know. Sam inhaled sharply, then spun around to face Phantom. “Why me?” Sam blurted.

Phantom looked at her in confusion. “What?”

Sam shuffled slightly in place. “Why am I your obsession? There are billions of other people out there, and countless more objects, for thousands of years. But you picked me. Why?”

Phantom turned contemplative. “No ghost knows how exactly their obsessions are chosen. It's not a completely conscious choice either. There are some guesses as to how obsessions are chosen or determined, but none of them have been proven. In my case…”

Phantom drifted towards her. His gaze electrified something inside of her. “I think it was your fire that drew me,” he murmured. He was so close that Sam could count the green flecks in his eyes. “Your anger and passion and conviction never faltered, never swayed, even in the face of death. No matter how afraid of me you were in the beginning, you didn’t let it stop you from protecting utter strangers or the people you love the most.”

“I couldn’t _not_ protect them. I had the means and the ability to protect people.”

Phantom shook his head with a soft smile. “I’ve met a lot of people, Samantha. Ghost and human. Not everyone has the same conviction.”

“It’s Sam.” The words were out of her mouth before she knew it. It felt like all the power in the room had shifted to her with two little words. As they sink in, a flash of awareness lit in Phantom’s eyes. A recognition. One that Sam felt herself in her chest. It was recognition. Sam had felt it when she had caught her first ghost, when she had first met Tucker, when she was playing cards with her grandma. It’s that moment when she accepted someone into her life, someone who would alter her life for better or for worse. 

And fuck—she shouldn’t be feeling that. Now here, not now. 

They were sharing the same breath. He was so close. Sam was tired, still in slight pain from her encounter with Aragon, and still fairly frustrated and angry with Phantom and the situation she'd been thrown into head first. They still had a lot of talking to do. And yet, despite all of that… the way he was looking at her made her forget all of that. All Sam wanted was for him to be closer.

Her correction seemed to set alight something in Phantom, burning with an intensity that made Sam gasp. “Sam,” Phantom growled. He closed the distance between them in an instant. His mouth slanted across hers, and that was it. Her hands grabbed and pulled at his shoulders, a wordless plea as he pressed her against the door and kissed her deep enough to make her head spin.

"Frostbite said that you should be resting," Phantom growled against her throat. His hands were all over her, stroking the heat inside of her hotter. There was an edge to his touch that Sam hadn’t felt before. He pulled her to him as if she was going to disappear on him in a moment.

Sam tugged at his hair, snarled "Don't you dare stop," and kissed him. Long and filthily. He matched her in passion, kissing her back with just as much fervor. She thought, rather dizzily, how absolutely unfair it was for him to make her feel this way. To make her forget the outside world with its rules and its customs and its logic for why she shouldn’t want this man. To be touched by him and feel things she’d never felt before. She wanted him, right here and now, needed him to lose control and make her come apart. 

She took his bottom lip and scraped her teeth against it. His hands tightened reflexively and he groaned. Phantom's hand left her back to slam against the door she was leaning against. And then suddenly she was falling through the door, as if it hasn't existed before. She couldn't even panic before Phantom was pulling her against him, hitching her legs around his waist. She was pressed so deliciously against him it made her gasp.

Soon enough, Sam's back hit the mattress. Phantom touched her everywhere, his hands and his lips, but it wasn't enough. Clothes were tossed somewhere unimportant, and then all she was feeling was skin on skin.

But then Phantom stilled. Caught off guard by the sudden change, Sam mimicked him. "What is it?" Sam panted. 

She followed his gaze to the right side of her torso, where a dark, mottled bruise was blooming across her skin. "Huh," she said mildly. "Must have happened when Aragon pinned me." She tugged at Phantom's shoulders, urging him back to her to resume.

He resisted. A darkness rippled from within him. She shivered reflexively, and her mind went to that one alleyway of humans torturing that ghost.

"He hurt you," he said, a dark undercurrent to his voice. 

Sam almost pulled her hands away, but something had her simply shift them to rest on his shoulders. "I didn't even notice the bruise until you pointed it out," she said. "It'll fade eventually."

"He hurt you," Phantom growled. "And he's going to pay for it." 

And then he was kissing, nipping across every part of her body. He found what made her gasp and writhe and pant. Until finally, finally, one of his fingers traced the edges of her clit. Her hips twitched but then he was already moving away. A whine escaped her at the loss of contact. Her clit was aching with the need to be touched. 

Phantom circled the entrance to her core. "You're fucking dripping." Desire coated his words.

Too impatient to wait any longer, Sam pushed up and her hand found his cock. It was thick and straining. She traced the head before twisting her grip down. Phantom hissed through his teeth.

A carnal satisfaction filled Sam at the reaction. Taking the opportunity before her, she explored every part of his cock, noting what drew out a reaction and then alternating between them over and over.

It didn't take long before he grabbed her wrist and pinned it next to her head against the bed. He kissed her heatedly and she urged him closer to her with her legs. 

He entered her in one smooth thrust. Sam gasped at the aching, heady feeling of Phantom filling her. He swallowed her moans as he pressed deeper. Then, he began to move.

This wasn't sex. It was a claiming.

Unable to keep herself quiet, Sam sank her teeth into his shoulder to muffle her moans. He hooked her legs over his arms, and within a few thrusts he was hitting that one spot inside her that was slowly driving her insane. She clenched against him and he swore. It took almost all her effort to muffle the sound of pleasure that was desperate to escape.

He drew away far enough so that she couldn’t reach him. “No,” Phantom panted, “I want to hear you.” He went on to graze her nipple with his teeth.

Irritatingly, she couldn’t help the strangled noise from escaping her mouth. She tightened her hold on him, and his breath caught. Ignoring the trembling of her muscles that begged her to continue letting him fuck her like she wouldn’t survive without it, she pushed at him until he was lying on the bed and she was straddling his stomach. Reining in the desire to sink down and move until the pleasure crackled throughout her entire body, she slowly welcomed him inside her, inch by inch.

He tried to rush, to buck up into her, but each time he did, she slid forward and started over. Pupils blown and his hands unable to stop moving across her skin, he growled, “Samantha…”

“Sam,” she corrected him again with a twist of her hips that had them both shuddering. “Stop calling me Samantha; only my parents call me that.”

And then he was sitting up so that their chests were pressed together and their faces inches apart. “I really hope that you’re not thinking about your parents right now.” He wound one arm around her back and thrust and no, she wasn’t thinking about her parents, not even close and _fuck_ , she was close.

“Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop.” Desperately, she brought her hand to furiously rub at her clit. Phantom was murmuring nonsense against her neck, his movements becoming irregular.

They came one second after another. Sam was first, tingles of pleasure filling her veins, unable to hold back her babble of noise. She clenched around him, and he growled, “Sam” before coming sharply.

Still boneless and unable to move, Sam let him shift her until she was sprawled across the bed and he was resting on her. His head lay between her breasts, just above her heart.

Her hand was up and brushing through the strands of his hair right above his neck before the conscious thought formed.

She broke the silence first. “I am okay, you know,” she said softly.

“I know. Logically, I know.” He turned his head so that he rested his chin on her sternum and he could look at her face. “Just…give me a minute.”

“We have to talk. About Aragon…about this.”

“We will,” he said, with no intention of backing out. “And Saman-Sam, I want to warn you. I’m going to be doing whatever is necessary to keep you safe. The option that best guarantees that might not be the one you like, but it will be the one that I choose. You are my ancra, and that will be the option I always choose.”

She had a feeling that he was going to say that, she thought with a kind of resignation, but at least he was being honest and clear with her. “We will talk about it and decide _together_ ,” she said firmly, refusing to budge on this.

He conceded with a slow nod. “We’ll talk to Frostbite.”

* * *

“What will happen?” Sam whispered the next morning. “After you catch Aragon and I’m safe.”

“Aragon isn’t the only enemy I have,” Phantom replied softly. She had expected him to leave, with his list of responsibilities longer than she was tall. But he showed no intention of moving from his spot under her. “And he’s unlikely to be the last person who decides to exploit my weaknesses.”

She hated that she was categorized as a weakness. “So I’ll always be under threat, looking behind my shoulder,” Sam said bitterly. “I don’t want the Ghost Zone to be my prison. I have a life in the human world: friends, family, school, my future career. I refuse to have all that taken away because some asshole opportunist thinks he can use me against you.”

Sam's eye caught the candlelight playing with the lines of his bare chest. _Focus, Manson,_ Sam scolded herself.

“I can’t protect you as well if you’re in the human world,” Phantom pointed out.

Sam made an exasperated gesture with her hands. “So because of that, I should be locked away in a tower forever? On the small chance that I get hurt or killed is a shitty reason for me to stop living, Phantom.”

“It’s not a small chance, Saman—Sam,” he argued. “You were in the human world for less than twenty-four hours before you were attacked.”

“I’ll be more careful next time! I’ll make sure I’ll have some sort of weapon and a Thermos on me at all times. I won’t walk alone by myself.”

“There are ghosts that are more than powerful enough to consider those weapons to be nothing more than safety pins!” he said heatedly.

Sam’s voice rose to meet his. “So then I go to the Fenton’s and ask for stronger weapons!”

Phantom’s scoff had Sam’s hackles rising. “Those bumbling idiots? They don’t even understand half the supernatural things they encounter, let alone how to stop them.”

That was the final straw for Sam. “Well at least they try!” Sam shouted. “No matter how I fuck up or what situation I’m in, they’ve always done their damnest to help and support me, even if it hurts them! That’s more than I can say about you, you selfish prick!”

With that, Sam wrestled with the sheets tangled with her legs. She leapt off the bed and started snatching her clothes off the floor. She cursed the fact that tears blurred her vision.

There was a rustle from the sheets. Then, there was a hand at her elbow. “Sam—”

Sam wrenched her arm away and began dressing.

“Sam,” Phantom tried again, but Sam wasn’t having it. She pointedly avoided his gaze.

Phantom sighed. In the corner of her eye, Sam could see him running his fingers through his hair.

Sam was caught off guard when he said, “My war council is being assembled after what happened with Aragon and the Infi-map. If it’s alright with you, I’d like you to be there.”

“Why?” Sam said curtly. 

“Because Aragon attacking you means that you’re involved. And because you deserve to have a say in what happens.”

Was that supposed to be an apology? If it was, then it was a pretty half-assed one. “I want you to understand,” she said softly but firmly, “you may feel you have a say in my safety and future because your existence is dependent on mine, but this is my life you’re talking about. My life, my choice. And if you can’t see that, then I’m gone and I’m not coming back.”

The words hung between them like a gaping divide.

There was a knock at the door.

“What,” the Ghost King snarled at the intrusion. 

“Apologies, sire,” a cowed voice spoke through the door. “I was instructed by General Pandora to notify you: the war council has been assembled. They are waiting for your arrival.”

“Fine, you’re dismissed,” Phantom snapped.

There was a whoosh. The ghost had fled.

Silence. 

Phantom snapped his fingers and then he was impeccably dressed, with no hint of their earlier activities. The clothes she'd torn off him were nowhere in sight. She only slightly resented him for it.

“I have to go,” Phantom finally said. “This conversation isn’t over, but we can finish it after this is over. Will you come with me?”

Like he expected her to stay behind, completely in the dark. “I’m coming,” she said coldly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks for everyone who's stuck it out this far! See you next week!


	9. awake at night

The war council was in a long room with high, imposing ceilings and a table stretching out across the space. Torches lined the walls, filling the room with flickering light. A ghost filled every chair except two.

All the ghosts rose and bowed from their places. Phantom took the seat at the head of the table and gestured for Sam to sit at his right. She did, and Phantom told the rest to be seated.

Once everyone was settled, Phantom addressed Skulker, “Report.”

“Aragorn has gone underground. He appears to be hiding, the coward. Wulf tried picking up his scent with no luck. We also learned that the thieves who took the Infi-map came in through a portal, right at the center of the Forever Frozen.”

“Which means that they weren’t any ordinary ghosts. Opening a portal like that requires special skills or a special item.” Phantom’s eyes narrowed in calculation. “Poindexter, how many ghosts on the census have the ability to open a portal to a desired destination on command?”

A monochromatic, reedy teenager pushed his wireframe glasses up his nose. “Very few, sire,” the ghost Poindexter replied nasally. “Only thirty have been recorded as having some portal-related abilities, and less than half of those had any sort of precision.”

“Did anyone investigate them?”

Spectra spoke up. “I did, sire.” The dark, soulless parasite flicked an imaginary speck of dust off the arm of her chair. “All the ghosts who had the ability to create that portal were innocent. No ghost in your realm committed this crime with their own natural abilities.”

“And what about technology?” Phantom questioned. “Have there been any new devices created that could do this?”

Spectra shook her head. “The most recent groundbreaking invention involving ghost technology was when the Fentons created their own ghost portal in their basement. But that was six years ago, and they’re nowhere close enough to create a portable device with location accuracy.”

Sam shot a smug look at Phantom. “Bumbling idiots” her ass.

Phantom glowered at his war council. “Then all I’m hearing is that we’re nowhere close to determining where Aragorn is, how those thieves got into the Forever Frozen, or what they plan to do with it. Am I wrong?”

“Not necessarily, my King,” Skulker responded quickly. “Wulf caught the scents of the thieves and is currently tracking them now. As soon as he finds them, he’ll detain them and bring them to you.”

Phantom’s eyes glinted. “Good.”

Sam wasn’t the only one to shiver at that.

Spectra said, “My associates and I will continue listening for any information regarding the traitors, sire. However, there now comes the question of current safety measures regarding any treasures under the Crown’s protection.”

“Security has been tripled in the most critical areas of the Far Frozen,” Frostbite declared. “We are now on high alert.”

Pandora added, “I’ve posted my best people at the points of most value.”

Ember cut in. “That’s all great, but it doesn’t do shit to protect the greatest vulnerability.”

Every head turned to Sam. Sam scowled and crossed her arms.

Phantom said definitely, “I’m handling it.”

“With all due respect, my King,” Frostbite said apologetically, “simply keeping the Great Huntress within this castle or the Ghost Zone is a temporary solution, and a flimsy one at that. There have been spies and traitors within these walls before, and they will unlikely be the last. She will be even more vulnerable in the human world.”

Sam could’ve kissed Frostbite for making her exact argument not fifteen minutes ago.

“I’m aware of all those points, Frostbite,” Phantom snapped. “But our options are limited and we don’t have a lot of time.”

“ _She_ is also right here,” Sam said in irritation. “And I will not be confined to a room or a building or the Ghost Zone forever. I’d rather jump off a cliff.”

A crack thundered and rattled Sam’s eardrums. The fire in each torch was snuffed out. Phantom’s hands were curled into tight fists, his eyes screwed tightly shut as he struggled to contain something inside himself.

Nobody breathed when Phantom opened his eyes and locked gazes with her.

Deep down, Sam knew what he wanted to say. _Please don’t. Don’t do that._

Boldly, Frostbite broke the silence. “I may have another option.”

Sam exhaled shakily as Phantom tore his gaze away. She felt like she was vibrating with electricity.

Phantom waved a hand and the torches burst back to life. “What is it?”

Frostbite coughed. “Well, I simply recalled how...unusual your reign is, and that, when you had ascended to the throne, the Observants had recommended a different way to...hold your power.”

Skulker and Poindexter choked. Ember and Spectra burst out laughing. Pandora drummed her fingers against the table in contemplation, and Dora blinked in surprise.

Phantom’s jaw clenched. “Absolutely not.”

“Sire, it’s the only way,” Frostbite supplicated.

“You can’t be serious, Frostbite,” Spectra jeered. “A human? She’s hardly an adult by human standards!”

“Oh, this is the funniest thing that’s happened since the Great Prison Break,” Ember cackled.

“What?” Sam pressed. “What is it?”

“She’s human, she won’t be able to handle it,” Phantom argued.

“She’s your ancra,” Frostbite countered. “You chose her because she can handle it.”

“That’s a goddamn myth and you know it,” Phantom snapped.

Sam slapped her hand on the table, effectively interrupting their argument. “Can you two stop bickering like an elderly couple and tell me what you’re babbling on about?”

Phantom shot daggers at Frostbite. When his advisor stared back, Phantom huffed and commanded, “All of you out except for Frostbite and Sam.”

The council members in question filed out without a word. Dora gave Sam an encouraging smile, while Spectra sneered at her. The door soon closed behind all of them with a resounding thud.

And then there were three.

“So,” Sam said in a controlled voice, “which of you is going to tell me about this ‘other option’?”

Frostbite looked to Phantom, who looked decidedly uncomfortable. When Phantom said nothing, Frostbite cautiously asked, “What is your understanding of how the Ghost King gains his power?”

“I—” Sam stopped, then blinked in confusion. She didn’t think she’d ever stopped to think about it. Then again, before meeting Clockwork, she’d thought Phantom was the first and only Ghost King in history. “I don’t know,” Sam admitted.

Frostbite nodded without judgment, then began his story. “It’s an old story, often tied into many myths. It was said that, long ago, when the first Ghost King ascended to the throne, the power was too much for him to bear. The first King slowly went mad in his effort to keep the power contained within himself. In an attempt to save the first monarch, a group of ancient, powerful ghosts banded together, and siphoned off the Ghost King’s power. With it, they forged two items: the Ring of Rage and the Crown of Fire. These items were formed, binding the power of the Ghost King into the items’ very essence, and they created two to ensure that the power would never be shouldered by a single ghost again.

“Since their creation, the Ring and Crown have been passed from monarch to monarch. A tradition was created, where the Ghost King would wear the Crown, and another—whether that be a Queen, King, a sibling, or a trusted advisor or general—was given the Ring. That way, the monarchy was stronger and more stable. Even still, not every ghost has been able to bear even one of the items; some still perished, or became insane.”

Sam’s head was buzzing with all the new information. “But I’ve never seen Phantom with a crown or a ring,” Sam protested.

“I keep them within myself, hidden,” Phantom told her quietly. He closed his eyes. A ripple of pure, unadulterated power went through her. It felt as if a fire cleaved through her soul. Sam could only see fire, but she didn’t burn.

By the time Sam could see again, a ring of emerald fire was floating above Phantom’s hair. On his right hand, a green-encrusted ring adorned his middle finger. In the ring’s center was black plating and a green skull. The flames cast dark shadows over Phantom. He looked lethal. He'd never looked more like a Ghost King to her than in this moment. Humans may have associated Phantom with the Devil, but in this moment, he reminded her the most of the Grim Reaper: powerful, hauntingly mysterious, and sadly distant.

Sam swallowed. “I don’t understand,” she said to Frostbite. “You just told me that the Crown and the Ring were created to never be worn by the same person; otherwise, the ghost went mad. Phantom is wearing both.”

“Yes, the Crown and Ring have been shared between more than one being since the first King,” Frostbite acknowledged, “until Pariah Dark took the throne.”

Pariah Dark again. Sam felt a sense of dread.

“Pariah Dark didn’t want to share the power with another,” Frostbite explained, “so he wore both and refused to give one of them up. It slowly drove him mad, as it had with the first King. He became crueler and more unreasonable; soon, he became a full tyrant, killing and rounding up scores of ghosts, threatening ghosts’ ancras to get what he wanted, and invading the human world. It was the reason why a rebellion overthrew Dark.

“When Phantom was crowned, he decided he would go against the Observants’ advice and wear both the Crown and Ring.”

Sam threw a baffled look at Phantom. Why would he decide to follow in his predecessor’s footsteps when it had gone so poorly for Dark?

Frostbite continued, “That is why the option I proposed is the best option we have.”

Sam’s head tilted in confusion. Then, she reeled back in shock. “Wait, you mean…”

Frostbite nodded. “My suggestion is for you to take King Phantom’s Ring of Rage. You would be crowned Ghost Queen, and you would have the powers of the Ghost Throne within yourself to defend against anyone who might wish to harm you. You’d be able to enter and leave the Ghost Zone as you please. Additionally, King Phantom would no longer need to shoulder the burden of carrying the full power of the Ghost King, avoiding the danger of him falling into the same path as Dark.”

Sam’s insides felt leaden. “You’re suggesting that I be given powers of the Ghost King, making myself the Ghost Queen?”

_A pleasure meeting you, my Queen._

“The Ring of Rage and the Crown of Fire were meant to be worn separately, yet they grant each wearer the full might of the Ghost King’s powers,” Frostbite corrected. “The power is shared and enhanced between the two wearers. In fact, some myths say that the two wearers are more powerful than a single wearer holding both.”

Sam laughed hysterically. “Oh, so I’ll be even more powerful than the most powerful ghost in the universe. That makes it _so_ much better.” Sam’s laughter faded and she hugged herself. “I don’t want it,” she told Phantom and Frostbite. “There has to be another way.”

“Great Huntress,” Frostbite started, but Phantom stopped him.

“Frostbite, leave us.” He had been unusually quiet while Frostbite had been talking to Sam. The Crown and the Ring had disappeared from view, but the afterimage was burned onto the back of Sam’s eyelids.

Frostbite opened his mouth to argue, but conceded. “My King. I will be in the Forever Frozen if you require my assistance.” He left.

Sam was almost at a loss for what to say. She had learned...so much, and her mind was racing to process the information. And she felt no small amount of panic over what had just been offered to her.

“We’ll keep on searching for other alternatives,” Phantom murmured.

Sam gripped her biceps. “Why?” Sam said, a note of something urgent and lost in her voice. “Why wear them both? From what Frostbite said, you’re giving yourself a death sentence by keeping both on.”

“I have my reasons,” Phantom said curtly.

Not for the first time, Sam wanted to shake him. But, the two of them seemed to be in agreement that she wouldn’t become Queen, and that was good enough for her.

Sam decided to change the subject. “How long will it take Wulf to track those thieves?”

Phantom took the subject change. “Knowing him, not long,” he replied. “Skulker likes to claim he’s the best hunger in the Ghost Zone, but he’s bullshitting. Wulf is one of the best trackers out there.”

Sam snorted at that. “And in the meantime?”

Phantom grimaced. “In the meantime, I’m pretty sure I have a lot of reports from Dora to catch up on.”

He looked so much like a college student swamped with work and desperate to escape. Despite the stressful situation, a laugh escaped Sam. “It can’t be that bad,” Sam teased.

For the first time in a while, the tension had eased between them. Phantom’s mouth curled into a little grin, then he faked a horrified look. “You don’t know how Dora can be with reports.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Uh huh, sure. Baby.”

The teasing jab rolled off him. “I can take you to the kitchen. You must be starving.”

Her aching stomach wholeheartedly agreed with him. “Please and thank you.”

The soft smile on his face made something flip in her belly. He really was incredibly good-looking. _Ugh._ They still had a lot to figure out, and Sam didn’t exactly understand where he was coming from, or how they would resolve this threat without sacrificing her freedom. But right now, she just wanted to push those worries aside. At least for an hour. She was so tired of thinking and worrying.

Phantom left her in the care of the Lunch Lady. Her staff provided plates upon plates of food. Refusing all of the meat dishes made the Lunch Lady look like her head was going to explode, but with a quick glare from Phantom, the chef reluctantly ordered some non-meat dishes to be made. Starving, Sam scarfed the food down. Halfway through the dishes provided, Sam started slowing down and Phantom gave her an amused look before heading out to find Dora. She picked at the mushroom risotto in front of her.

It was terrifying to be offered the power of the Ghost King. Besides hating the idea of being a Queen in any sense, she rebelled at the idea of becoming tainted by ghost powers so fundamentally. Because having that kind of power thrust inside you had to change you in some way, didn’t it? She tried to picture what the Ghost Zone must have been like under the rule of an insane, all-powerful ghost. Every image was painted in blood. Sam desperately hoped Phantom or Frostbite came up with another solution. Maybe she could do her own research.

Her mind flitted to the threat of Aragorn. It was incredibly frustrating for a ghost as sexist and obnoxious as that dragon to be so elusive. It seemed very unlike him, recalling the brashness and temper that had raged rampant in the limited time Sam had interacted with him.

Sam didn’t notice her spoon pausing halfway between her mouth and the bowl. She replayed what had happened during Aragorn’s attack. He had said some things before Wulf had intervened. What had he told her? Her face scrunched up in concentration.

“‘Nevermind what he said before. Killing you will bring the same outcome,’” Sam repeated out loud, startling a nearby busboy. “But who was ‘he’?”

Aragorn had decided killing her would lead to some similar outcome. The outcome had likely been making Phantom so unstable at the loss of his obsession that he could be dethroned or destroyed. But what had been the original plan? And who with?

A terrible thought struck Sam. The council assumed that Aragorn was the mastermind behind the entire plot against Phantom and her. But if Aragorn had struck a plan with some stranger and Aragorn had acknowledged there would be consequences if he deviated from the plan, then that meant…

Sam’s chair clattered to the floor as she violently stood up. “I need to see Phantom,” she shouted at the Lunch Lady, who startled at Sam’s sudden behavior. “Where is he?”

The Lunch Lady sniffed. “King Phantom is a very busy man—”

Sam stalked over to her and grabbed her by the front of her apron. “Where is Phantom? Or any member of the Council? I need to speak with them! It’s a matter of life and death!”

The Lunch Lady leveled her with a threatening look, but snapped at a kitchen aid to take her to the King. With a fearful look, the aid took off. Sam sprinted after her, down the hallway, and up a winding staircase. A door was at the top. The ghost moved to knock, but Sam was already mowing it down. The door crashed into the wall with a bang.

Phantom stood protectively behind Dora. He relaxed slightly at the sight of Sam and the kitchen ghost. “Sam, what—”

“Aragorn,” Sam gasped, “Aragorn wasn’t leading the plot against you. He was working for someone else.”

At that moment, a rip cleaved through the air. The gaping hole grew wider and wider until Wulf came sailing through, landing nimbly on all fours.

He rose and spoke urgently to Phantom. “Trovis la ŝtelistojn. Ili sigelis sin en fajro.”

“What?” Phantom said, completely baffled.

“What did Wulf say?” Dora asked.

Phantom said, “He said he found the thieves, but that they sealed themselves in with a ghost-repelling rock. But that doesn’t make any sense.”

The three of them turned to look at the portal Wulf had opened. The scene where Wulf had come from shone clearly.

Sam stared. “But...that’s my grandma’s assisted home.” she said, pure confusion in her voice.

Distantly, Sam heard Dora gasp in horror. Sam’s mind was back in the moments before Aragorn’s attack. He had found her waiting at a bus stop. 

Right after she’d gone to visit her grandmother.

Sam heard a curse and “Sam, don’t—” but it was too late. She was already through the portal and about a mile away from her grandmother’s home, atop a hill.

The building was crumbling. The entire structure, cracking and crumbling in on itself.

Sam thought she heard someone screaming, but she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was running, running as fast as she could to the building imploding on itself.

Strong arms encircled her arms and waist, and yanked her back. Someone was screaming again, and Sam was fighting against the arms holding her back.

“Stop, Sam!” The person behind her shouted.

Sam realized with sudden clarity that the screams were coming from her.

“Let me go!” Sam screamed.

The arms around her tightened. “No.”

Sam gritted her teeth in frustration. She stomped on Phantom’s foot as hard as she could with her heel and snapped her head back to collide with his nose.

He didn’t even flinch. Instead, he drew her up against him until her back was pressed against his front, and her feet were lifted off the ground, eliminating any attacking leverage she had. Sam kicked wildly, desperate to get free.

“Asshole,” Sam snarled at him. “I have to go in! My grandma’s in there!”

“You can’t!” he growled. “The building is going to implode on itself at any second. Wulf says there’s a line of green stone around the house that no ghost can cross.”

Sam still struggled. “I don’t care! I’m human, I can go through. _Let me go!_ ”

“No! Not when you could go to a place I can’t follow.”

There was a crack, then a deep, aching groan. The house gave up and folded in on itself, until it became an unrecognizable mass of stone and metal and glass.

Sam felt something breaking inside of her. “Grandma!” she screamed brokenly. “ _Grandma!_ ”

Any strength in Sam drained out of her. She slumped against Phantom, the fight in her gone.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. The ground met Sam’s feet, but she made no effort to stand; her legs splayed out. She was still curled into Phantom’s arms. “I’m so sorry.”

Sam’s world crumbled.

* * *

“Sire,” Dora spoke behind Phantom, her voice subdued. She had rushed through the portal a few minutes after Phantom had entered through Wulf’s portal. “The castle is under attack. I just heard from a scout that Skulker and Poindexter were ambushed and captured. All the prisoners escaped Walker’s Prison, and Walker is nowhere to be seen. All the enemies are saying the same thing: Vlad Plasmius is the new Ghost King.”

“Plasmius did this?” Phantom asked softly.

“It appears so.”

Plasmius. The power within Phantom erupted, gorging on the rage boiling within him. He should have known. Phantom had known Plasmius’ ambitions for a long time now, but had never considered him to follow through. It had been unthinkable. 

He was going to beg for mercy before Phantom obliterated him.

“ _Sam?_ ” A distant voice called. A human, coming this way.

Phantom tightened his arms around Sam. He hadn’t moved her from her slumped position against his chest, her legs strewn carelessly across the ground. He had never seen her look so broken, so distraught, and it tore at something in him. He had grown to admire the human woman’s tenacity. She was so astoundingly passionate with her ideals, and wasn’t afraid to speak up. If she saw a wrong, then she would raise hell to right a wrong, and anyone who stood in her way would quickly learn to regret it. And she loved people fiercely, sacrificing for the people she cared about without blinking an eye. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the ferocious look on her face when her mother had been in danger. 

She’s a part of him now, and it happened so subtly that he didn’t even notice. When she trained with Frostbite and struggled with a particular move, she got this little furrow in her brow from concentration and he had to hide his smile when she got it. He came across a horror book about a family living in a haunted house and he immediately knew Sam would devour it in a heartbeat. He knew from the line of her shoulders when she was in pain or uncomfortable, or when she was trying to hold in laughter. 

Before he knew it, his being revolved around her.

Seeing her this broken made a core part of him throb.

“Go,” he told Dora. “I’ll summon you later. Be careful and stay hidden.”

She bowed, then faded.

“Sam!” Phantom spotted a human—that ghost hunter that Sam had been with when fighting Undergrowth—running towards them.

A man in a ginormous orange jumpsuit was running behind her, carrying a large hand cannon over his shoulder. “Get away from her, you devious ghostly ghoul!” the man bellowed. There was the sound of a weapon firing up. 

Phantom made sure his voice carried. “I won’t leave her,” Phantom said dangerously. “And I won’t let you accidentally hurt her when trying to get to me.”

“That assumes that I’m going to miss. I never miss,” the women’s steely voice promised. 

The loud threats seemed to briefly jolt Sam out of her stupor. Sam turned her head to look at the two humans. “Mr. and Mrs. Fenton?” Her voice was the most dull Phantom had ever heard; he hated it instantly.

Mrs. Fenton’s voice was soft when she spoke to her. “Sam, sweetie, don’t worry. You’ll be safe soon.”

“Safe?” Sam’s voice wavered. “No one is safe. My grandma…”

Mrs. Fenton’s eyes shone with emotion. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. Everything is going to be alright.”

Sam shivered. Her eyes returned to the remains of the house.

Phantom clenched his jaw. This was not what he'd wanted to happen. His instincts had demanded Sam’s safety be the only concern, which he now realized was narrow-minded and stupid. Sam's grandmother had paid the price for his miscalculation. 

His castle was under attack. If he went back now, he would be able to retake the castle, but that would mean leaving Sam vulnerable here in the human world or in the midst of a ghost battle. Neither of those options would work. The biggest priority right now was getting Sam to a protected location and figuring out how to stop Plasmius. The castle would survive, and so would his Council. He had chosen them because they were fighters and survivors.

That meant one option. 

He spoke to the human woman. “A ghost is looking to overthrow me, and he’s intent on hurting Sam; he masterminded what happened here to take my castle in the Ghost Zone. And he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.”

The Fenton man snorted loudly. “You think you’re gonna fool us into believing your lies?”

“And what does this ghost want?” Fenton matriarch pressed. While her voice was suspicious, she was considering what Phantom was saying. Smart human.

“Maddie, the punk ghost is lying. You don’t have to listen to what he’s saying,” Mr. Fenton muttered in what was supposed to be a quiet voice.

“He wants everything,” Phantom told Mrs. Fenton simply. “He wants my powers as Ghost King, he wants all ghosts in the Ghost Zone to buckle under his power, and then he wants to do the same thing to the human world.”

“Like you don’t impose your own authority on the human world?” Mrs. Fenton questioned.

Phantom laughed cynically. “ _Please._ I let your human world have your countries, your leaders, your governments. My agents acting on my orders never initiate an altercation involving a member under my rule; I only retaliate against those who attack myself or my people.

“Under Vlad Plasmius? When he was trying to get into my inner circle, he tried to convince me to go a different path: wiping out all the human governments, merging all human countries into a single land, declaring myself the King of All. Because I was the most powerful being in existence, he argued, I deserved to rule over everything. I didn’t agree with his views, so I cast him out. But it gives you a glimpse into what he wants for himself. Your life would be dictated at the whim of your new Ghost Dictator. Now that he has control over the Ghost Zone and has either captured or sent my allies into hiding, the next step to him achieving his goal is to destroy me. He will come after me at any moment. The Ghost Zone is not safe anymore, and the human world barely has any places with enough protections that could fend off Plasmius.”

Mrs. Fenton concluded out loud. “You only have a few chances to take out Plasmius before he finds a way to destroy you.” She stared at him for a moment, and then she shouldered her weapon. “You can shelter with us and determine how to defeat this Plasmius. Our ghost shield will prevent any ghosts from getting through.”

“Maddie!” Mr. Fenton protested. “He’s the Ghost King!”

“But right now, he is not our enemy,” Mrs. Fenton said calmly. She spoke directly to Phantom. “I’m still suspicious of you and your motives, but we noticed the line of Ectoranium surrounding the house. There’s no way a ghost could have done that, and it doesn’t make sense for you to have manipulated a human to do it and claim it wasn’t you. So that means at least a smidgen of the story you gave is truthful.”

Her eyes narrowed behind her goggles. Her voice lowered, “But, if I so much as suspect you’re trying to hurt me, my family, or the human world, I will take you apart molecule by molecule until you’re nothing but a pile of dust.”

Phantom kept his face expressionless, but he felt a small bud of respect bloom. The human woman was smart, logical, but had enough nerves of steel to threaten the Ghost King. Not many humans could do that. Only one had done that before. No wonder Sam had such deep respect and affection for this ghost hunter.

There was a pause, almost as if the Fenton matriarch expected him to immediately break his word. Then, she gestured to her right, away from the house. “The Fenton RV is parked over there. Sam, sweetie, can you—”

Phantom was already moving. An arm under her legs and then he was rising, Sam securely in his arms.

“Right,” Mrs. Fenton said faintly. “Jazz is not going to be happy when we get back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *runs and hides*


	10. give it to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad to see you all survived the last chapter....things are definitely heating up now.

Sam didn’t think she’d ever felt so cold.

Flames still danced in the corner of her blank vision. The scene of a building crumbling into nothing was seared into her vision on an endless loop. She didn't think it would ever fade.

People talked around her, and things came and went from her line of sight, behind the dust. She didn’t process any of it, refused to process any of it. Nothing happening around her really mattered.

_Bubeleh. Grandma. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault._

Heat moved over her limbs, startling her out of her ruminations. Sam was in her bralette and underwear, her jeans and top gone. Phantom was holding her, lowering them both into a scalding bath.

Completely disoriented, Sam could only watch as Phantom rearranged her gently, laying her back to lean against his chest. He hadn’t bothered discarding any of his clothing; his jumpsuit was completely soaked through.

“Where...where are we?” Sam’s voice was rough from disuse.

“Fenton’s guest room.”

Fenton’s guest room? They were at the Fenton’s? The notion was completely absurd, but Sam didn’t care enough to ask.

“The Fenton matriarch said that you were in shock, that a hot bath would help you.” Sam had never heard Phantom sound like this. It was almost as if he was concerned.

Sam could still see glass shattering and walls crumbling whenever she closed her eyes.

Reality punctured whatever bubble Sam had been in. Her grandma was dead. It felt like a sharp, jagged knife twisted into her chest until there was nothing left but a gaping hole. Sam doubled over, gasping. “No…”

Her grandma had been healthy and lively when Sam had last seen her. She’d had so many years left, and Sam had clung to the belief that she still had several more years to lean on her bubeleh. That had been ripped from her, and Sam was just falling.

Grief tore through her violently. Sam sobbed at the pain and loss. Strong, corded arms, a pillow of strength against the storm Sam was drowning in, wrapped around her and drew her to him. Sam couldn’t help herself; she curled back into Phantom, twisting to cry into his neck.

Sam didn’t know how much time passed. When she was spent and empty, Phantom was still holding her. Sam’s head felt heavy and stuffed with cotton. Her fingers were wrinkled from the steam of the water.

Sam blurted, “Will she come back as a ghost?”

Phantom stilled under her. “No,” he said reluctantly. Sam guessed that he wouldn’t have been truthful had he not promised her a few hours ago.

Sam shouldn’t have felt hope at the possibility of her grandmother becoming a ghost. She felt something die inside her anyway. “Why?” she asked hollowly. “How do you know?”

Phantom traced an imaginary circle on her hip. “I become aware of every ghost being ‘born.’ A...Ghost King sense, almost. If I don’t sense them as soon as they’ve died, then I know they won’t ever become a ghost. If you’re asking me how it’s decided if they’ll become a ghost or...move on, that’s a question for something far older than me.”

“So then she’s really gone,” Sam concluded, her voice monotone. “It’s my fault.”

“Bullshit.” Phantom’s response was swift and definite. 

“It _was._ If I hadn’t visited her, then Aragorn wouldn’t have known she existed. That I cared about her.”

“And instead it would have been your parents, or your human friend. Or maybe your entire high school. If Plasmius wanted to use someone you loved to hurt you, then he would’ve picked the most vulnerable person surrounding you.”

That in no way reassured Sam. 

“I’m sorry,” Phantom said softly. “I was supposed to protect you, and I didn’t see this coming. You didn’t ask for any of this to happen to you, but you end up paying the price anyway.”

It would be so easy to blame him. To just let the anger and hatred consume her. But at the same time… ”You didn’t have much of a choice either,” Sam said. “You even told me before that you were happy with not having an obsession for the rest of your existence. And you could have been an asshole and thrown me in a dungeon or a million other things to keep me unharmed and docile and with you. Instead, you listened when I told you no or yelled at you. You let me walk away.”

Sam twisted in Phantom’s arms to look him in the eye. He was stiff, his shoulders back. “I don’t blame you,” she told him resolutely. “I blame the monsters who decided that getting power was worth murdering an innocent to cause pain for another. I blame them for considering all the other humans in that house just ‘collateral damage.’ I think they deserve to suffer, and I will do everything I can to make it happen.”

There were ghosts that were willing to kill her loved ones to get at her and Phantom? Fucking fine. But she’d sure as hell make them pay and regret it for the rest of their miserable afterlives.

There wasn’t a single shred of doubt in her when Sam told Phantom: “I’ll wear the Ring.”

Phantom’s jaw clenched with a snap of his teeth. “No, you won’t.”

So much for her words about him goddamn listening to her. Sam glared at him. “Did I stutter? It makes the most sense, and the benefits outweigh the consequences.”

“You don’t know that. There has never been a human that has worn the Ring of Rage; no one knows how it will respond to you. You could go insane. It could kill you.”

“Frostbite said it wouldn’t,” Sam said stubbornly.

His hand against her stomach clenched into a fist. “All based on a myth, a rumor! The mythologists and romantics think that fate or some deity chooses your obsession for you, but there’s no proof of that. And even then, if you suddenly decide that you no longer want to be Queen or you don’t want the Ring, there’s no guarantee that the Ring will let you take it off. There were times when the Ring refused to be taken off its wearer, and it wasn’t until the ghost was destroyed from existence that the Ring was freed. There’s a chance that you’d be stuck with me, miserable, until the end of your existence.”

Sam heard him, but the fire was still in her veins and she had made up her mind. “Those are all risks I’m willing to take.”

Phantom raked a hand through his hair in agitation. His water-soaked jumpsuit emphasized every line and ridge of his form. Any other time she would be entranced by the motion.

Sam slinked forward, brushing her hands up his chest. She looped her fingers around his neck and pressed herself against him. “You saying you don't want me to be with you forever?” she murmured. Every curve was molded against him, and his eyes unconsciously darkened. “You don’t want me to be yours, and you to be mine, for the rest of existence?”

Phantom said roughly, “I never said that.” His hands had unconsciously found her waist, pressing her into him in a way that made him shiver.

Sam opened her mouth to respond, but then a boom shook the room.

Sam jerked. “What was that?”

Phantom muttered a curse. “They’re going to destroy the house if they keep at it.”

Sam turned alarmed. “What do you mean?”

Phantom jerked his head towards the door. “I put wards around this room. The Fentons have been trying to break through ever since. Idiots. They do know that I’m not an ordinary ghost, right?”

“Why did you put wards around here?” Sam said in bewilderment.

“The Fenton matriarch said you were going into shock, that you needed to stay warm.”

Sam almost choked. Had he really locked out the world just to make sure she was okay?

For the first time since being attached, Sam felt a warmth in her chest.

Another boom shook the house, shaking Sam from her reverie. She scrambled off of Phantom and out of the tub. She snatched a shirt and pants from the chest nearby. She peeled off her soaked clothes and ignored Phantom’s eyes on her.

“Take down the wards,” she told him.

Phantom still lounged in the bath, his casual stance and intent eyes reminding her of a predator. Dark, dangerous, and beautiful. With a shrug, he waved his hand.

The door to the guest room burst through, and Mr. Fenton tumbled through with a resounding crash. Mr. Fenton recovered quickly, whipping up his head and exclaiming, “Sam!”

“Are you alright?” Sam asked him, half in concern and half in amusement.

“Fine! All good,” Mr. Fenton scrambled upright. “I should be asking you that.”

Mrs. Fenton stormed into the room, seething. “I warned you what I’d do if you crossed a line,” she snapped at Phantom, who stood behind her. Somehow within a split second, he had risen from the tub and completely dried himself and his clothes.

“It’s alright, Mrs. Fenton,” Sam cut in hastily. Sam foresaw a clashing of wills that would not go well. “He was just taking care of me.”

Mrs. Fenton wasn’t appeased. “He just went into this room with you and shut us out! No warning, no explanation.”

“And he won’t do it again,” Sam shot Phantom a warning look. Phantom gave her a look that said _are you serious_. Sam glared harder, and Phantom huffed in irritation. 

“It won’t happen again,” Phantom repeated to Mrs. Fenton, his tone bored.

Mrs. Fenton looked ready to burst into a furious, motherly tirade. Sam figured it would be best for a distraction. “Why did you decide to bring us here?”

Mrs. Fenton didn’t look away from Phantom when she replied, “Phantom told us that his throne was under threat by the ghost that had...set fire to Amity Assisted Living. He said that the Ghost Zone and the human world weren’t safe for the two of you. The Fenton Ghost Shield has proven to work; by taking you here, you should be safe from that damn ghost.”

“And that would normally be true,” Phantom said, “but Vlad Plasmius is not a normal ghost.”

Mrs. Fenton said, “What do you mean, ‘a normal ghost’?” just as Sam said, “Who’s Vlad Plasmius?”

Phantom answered Sam first. “Plasmius was the mastermind behind Aragorn attacking you and the fire that killed your grandmother.” Sam flinched. Something flickered in Phantom’s eyes. “Ever since he appeared as a ghost, he’s wanted the Ghost Zone’s throne. The only difference between him and the other fools who tried to overthrow me is that Plasmius has the brain and the resources to potentially do it."

Phantom addressed Mrs. Fenton, “And what I mean about him not being a normal ghost is that he’s a halfa.”

“A halfa?” All the humans repeated.

“Half-human, half-ghost.”

“ _What?_ ” Sam distantly heard the Fentons echoing her exclamation. Stunned, Sam didn’t know how to process that. In all her encounters with ghosts, Sam had never heard of the existence of a being that was half-human and half-ghost.

Jazz breathed, “How is that possible?”

Phantom shrugged, almost amused at the humans’ stupefied shock. “He mentioned some side effects with a sickness he had many years ago.”

“He told you?” Sam said incredulously.

“He introduced himself to me soon after he got his ghost powers. He wanted a position on my Council. But it didn’t take long for me to realize that he would stab me in the back as soon as he got the chance. I cast him out. I’ve learned that he’s been trying to consolidate his power, both in the Ghost Zone and in the human world. I believe his human form is rather prominent here…Vlad Blasters or something?”

Everyone except Phantom froze. “Vlad Masters?” Mrs. Fenton croaked.

Phantom snapped his fingers. “That was it. Vlad Masters, Vlad Plasmius…a pretty flimsy alter ego if you ask me.”

All of the humans looked at each other in growing horror.

“Mayor Vlad Masters murdered my grandmother,” Sam said numbly.

Mr. Fenton shook his head fiercely. “I don’t believe that. Vladdy Boy has been my best friend since college! He would never do this.”

Phantom scoffed, “You seriously need proof?” 

“You’re a ghost! Ghosts will do anything to get what they want.”

“Oh, for fu—“ Phantom gritted his teeth. He scrunched his brows in thought. “You have a lab in your basement, right?”

Mr. Fenton made a surprised noise. “Yes,” he said warily. “How did you know that?”

Phantom asked instead, “Do you have an EMT emitter?”

Mr. Fenton was clearly lost in terms of where the ghost was going with this. “Yes…You know what an EMT is?”

Phantom deliberately ignored the insult. “Technus updates me on human technology.” Phantom grinned wickedly. “When Plasmius was trying to get on my Council, he worked to replace my Spymaster. He claimed that his information was far better than my Spymaster, because he had direct lines of intelligence on every important person related to or impacting ghosts…including the ghost hunter family the Fentons. He showed me the live feed his bug had on your lair…and I wouldn’t be surprised if he kept it there even after he lost his chance to become my Spymaster.”

A chilling silence. Jazz said, “The EMP would easily take down any spying bugs. It wouldn’t hurt to check.”

Mrs. Fenton seemed to reluctantly reach the same conclusion. “The EMP is in the RV, I’ll go and get it. I can adjust the settings on it so the ghost shield’s controller can be out of the EMP’s range.”

It didn’t take long.

As soon as Mrs. Fenton activated the EMP, hidden under a hastily-drawn coat, there was a soft clink of metal hitting metal in the corner of the lab. It was a tiny thing, the bug, perfectly disguised as a moth. Mrs. Fenton confirmed it belonged to Master’s within minutes.

“I don’t believe it,” Mr. Fenton whispered. His face was white.

Mrs. Fenton, equally as pale, grasped her husband’s arm. “Jack, that accident with the ghost portal in college. That ghost acne. You don’t think…”

Mr. Fenton swore. “No, I can’t believe that he’s been a ghost for that long. Since college? For over thirty years…”

Jazz, clearly at a loss at this new development, wrapped her arms around her parents. “It’s not either of your fault,” she firmly told them. “Even if it was an accident involving the ghost portal, it doesn’t excuse him murdering people and wanting world domination.”

_Amity Park’s mayor, a conniving egomaniac and sociopath with ghost powers_ , Sam thought in disgust and rising hot anger. She’d met Masters once while visiting the Fentons; he’d struck her as a regular politician, self-obsessed and conniving. She hadn’t known how right she was.

The man had met Sam, known her to be a close personal friend of the Fentons. She was almost family to them. And he still decided that killing her grandmother would be worth it for his own personal gain.

Fingernails digging into her palms painfully, Sam asked Phantom, “How does Vlad being half-human affect our safety?”

“Technically, the ghost shield surrounding us wouldn’t keep him away when he’s in his human form. But he won’t attack us here; he wouldn’t have any of his ghostly allies, and he doesn’t stand much of a chance with a family of ghost hunters and the Ghost King, especially since, with the bug removed, he’d be entering blind.”

As much as the reassurances that Phantom offered made sense, it still didn’t sit right with Sam. Not even here, completely covered under a ghost shield, was fully safe from Vlad. “Well, that settles it then,” Sam announced. “I’m wearing the Ring.”

That darkened Phantom’s mood. “No, it doesn’t,” he snapped at her.  
  


“What ring?” Jazz asked.

Completely ignoring Jazz, Sam retorted, “How does it not? You just told us that we’re not even safe here under a ghost shield. Fuck the potential side effects, we don’t have the luxury to be cautious.”

“Maybe I just don’t want you to have the Ring, did you think about that?”

Something about that pissed Sam off. “You weren’t saying that earlier. And good fucking luck going insane from all that power, Pariah Dark #2. Maybe you’ll get lucky and Vlad will destroy you first. I’ll see you in the afterlife.”

“Uh, guys…” someone started, but Sam and Phantom were too gone to hear them.

“I told you that we’d find another way to protect you,” Phantom growled.

Sam didn’t know when they’d drifted closer; she just suddenly found herself stabbing a finger into his chest. “Then give me another option! I’m waiting with open ears.”

His eyes were blazing. They were inches apart, and that familiar searing burn was heating the blood in Sam’s veins. Sam licked her lips, and Phantom tracked the movement with hungry eyes.

Someone coughed behind Sam. “Uhh… I hate to step in the middle of this on the slight chance you both will take my head off, but we’re kind of in the dark on what the hell you’re talking about.”

Jerking back into reality, Sam flushed at the way the Fentons were staring at her as if she were an alien. She took a deep breath and stepped away from Phantom, ignoring the way his gaze hadn’t left her.

“No offense, Jazz, but none of your business,” Sam said. It wasn’t their business; ultimately, it was her and Phantom’s decision. Plus, it involved a lot of information that the Fenton's, known ghost hunters, probably shouldn't have.

“Um, I’m pretty sure ‘potential side effects’ are part of our business,” Jazz retorted. “You’re under our protection and the human world is in danger, that makes it our business.”

Sam crossed her arms. “It’s a decision between Phantom and me.” 

Phantom broke in, “Great, I say no, so the issue is closed.”

Sam turned back to Phantom, who was leaning against a lab table with his arms crossed, his eyebrows set stubbornly. Unlike the anger that had quickly risen the last time he refused, she only felt a sense of disquiet. “Really?” she said, too softly for the Fentons to hear. “You’re going to say no, when this is the only option I have left to keep the people I love safe? The last time I refused this, I got my grandmother killed. I won’t live with myself if it happens again.”

Phantom’s stance broke ever so slightly. He reached a hand out of her. Surprised, it took her a moment to understand what he wanted. She placed her hand in his. He led her to the corner of the room. 

“Look,” he said, matching her tone. “It’s not that I don’t trust you with the Ring. It’s not about whether I think you’d be able to handle it; you’re the strongest person I know.”

Sam’s heart skipped a beat.

“But,” Phantom continued, “I don’t want you to realize the consequences when it’s too late to take it back. If you take the Ring, then you’ll be Queen, and you’ll have certain responsibilities, some that are in the public eye. I mentioned the issues about the Ring refusing to come off if you didn’t want to be Queen anymore. And even if you _can_ take the Ring off, there’s a chance some ghostly residue will remain. I don’t want you to make a split-second decision out of grief that will be binding for eternity.”

“I won’t change my mind,” Sam said firmly. Phantom cast her a doubtful look. “I _won’t._ You’ve done your damndest to make sure I understand what will happen or may happen when I put that ring on my finger. I won’t back down. This will keep my family and myself safe. This will keep you safe.”

Phantom’s mouth pursed in thought. He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “Okay,” he muttered, and Sam’s heart leaped. “I’ll give you the Ring.”

Sam said elatedly, “Really?”

“Well, unless you’ve changed your mind,” Phantom said dryly.

Sam punched him on the shoulder. “Shut up,” she said with no force in her voice. The weight of him saying yes finally hit her. Unbidden anxiety had her rubbing her fingers together. “So what’s the first step? Do I put the Ring on now?”

Phantom shook his head. “I need to check in with my Council. They’re working behind the scenes to try and figure out what Plasmius is up to. I can’t do that after I give you the Ring; you’ll be struggling to contain the Ring and you’ll need to learn your new abilities.”

Sam hadn’t even considered how she’d need to wrangle the ghost powers she’d obtain. Even still… “You better not be stalling because you still want to go through with it.”

Some expression flashed across his face, but it was gone before Sam could discern it, rolling his eyes. “I don’t back down from an agreement,” Phantom said flatly. “And I told you I’d never lie to you again.”

He did promise her that. And he had said that more seriously than usual. “Okay,” Sam agreed. “Then what’s the plan?”

“I’ll go out and see what my Council has on Plasmius. When I come back later today, if you’re still willing to accept the Ring, then we can do it.”

That seemed like a good plan. Even still, with so many variables… “Just…be careful.”

Phantom smirked, one similar to the smirks he wore when they had first met. Somehow, though, this one felt a little more genuine. 

Banishing the thought, something else occurred to Sam. “Won’t you stand out if you’re flying over Amity Park? You’re not exactly incognito.”

“Who said I’m going to be flying around as myself?” A sharp crackle of energy formed around Phantom in an instant, and soon Phantom was in his human disguise.

Phantom turned to the Fentons, who were gaping at his transformation. “Don’t open the ghost shield for anything else but me after I leave,” Phantom told them. “And if I’m not back by sunset, contact the Guys in White and tell them there’s a suspected ghost in the basement of Plasmius’ human house.”

Mr. Fenton scratched his head. “You’re leaving?” 

“I need to get in touch with my Council,” Phantom said impatiently. “What we do after today depends on if we can figure out what Plasmius is up to.”

“How will we know that it’s actually you when you try to come back?” Mrs. Fenton piped up.

“Sam will figure it out.” 

That was news to Sam. “Wait, what?” she asked.

“Yeah, you’ll come up with something,” Phantom said casually. He was already moving to the stairs. “Oh also, make sure Plasmius’ bug won’t be able to collect any more information, but don’t destroy it. We may need it.”

“What are we supposed to do while you’re gone?” Sam yelled up the stairs at him.

“Don’t leave the house and don’t turn off the ghost shield for anyone but me,” he yelled back over his shoulders. 

Sam grumbled wordlessly. That was it? The door closed with a resounding thud. The buzzing outside the house stilled, then resumed as Mrs. Fenton turned the ghost shield off and on again.

* * *

Mrs. Fenton and Jazz cornered Sam after Sam emerged from the shower.

Sam wasn’t undressed or anything, thank fuck. Once Sam didn't have anything immediate pressing for her attention and focus, her body had demanded sleep. She'd crashed in the guest room. When she'd awoken, it was far into the afternoon and she'd decided to have a proper shower. Jazz had lent her some clothes, and they were slightly baggy on her because of Jazz’s taller frame. Sam hadn’t thought much of it; instead, she’d focused her energies on avoiding any thoughts of her grandmother. Of course, then her mind went to her time with Phantom in the bathtub. She replayed the feeling of her head tucked under his chin, his arms around her. His words brushing her hair. 

She was still preoccupied with these thoughts—or trying to get them out of her head—which is why she didn’t notice Mrs. Fenton and Jazz waiting for her in the hallway.

“Sam,” Jazz snapped Sam back to reality.

Sam felt like a fox being cornered by a couple of hunters. “Were you two waiting here the entire time I was showering?” Sam said suspiciously.

“We just wanted to talk to you,” Jazz said innocently.

Sam doubted it. “Uh huh.”

Mrs. Fenton dropped any pretense. “We just realized that this might be the first time you’ve been in the human world without any ghostly influences for a while. We just wanted to make sure that you were alright, sweetie.”

She was right. It was the first time she’d been away from any ghost ever since she’d run into Technus. Or did preparing for a battle against Undergrowth count? It had completely slipped her mind. 

“I’m fine,” Sam said slowly. The pain of her grandmother’s loss was there, and still would be for a long time. And she was angry, the angriest she’d ever been. But she reigned the anger in, waiting to unleash it until she came across the people responsible for her bubuleh’s death.

“A lot has happened since Undergrowth was destroyed,” Mrs. Fenton commented. “You have no idea my surprise when Phantom, the Ghost King, showed up when he did. I’d heard many stories about him, all terrible. Whenever the Ghost King had appeared in history, no humans lived.” Mrs. Fenton had caught the scent or something intriguing and, like any other scientist, was hunting for the answer with the doggedness of a bloodhound. “Except for you.”

Well, shit. “Beats me. But Phantom’s kind of like a small toddler: fascinated with anything shiny, but gets bored quickly and discards it,” she said quickly.

“In the thousands of texts I’d read about him, nothing had ever hinted at the Ghost King killing a ghost over a human before,” Mrs. Fenton pressed.

“I just don’t think that anyone was as monumentally stupid as I was when I first met him,” Sam said dryly. “You heard that I didn’t recognize him and slapped him in the face, right? I don’t think any human had ever looked at him in the wrong way before.”

“And healing you when you were on the brink of death?”

“I think he was irritated at the possibility of me dying and going to a place he couldn’t torment me.”

Mrs. Fenton fell oddly silent. Sam could see the cogs in her head turning, processing.

“I knew it!” Mrs. Fenton crowed suddenly. Jazz and Sam jumped in the air.

“Knew what?” Sam stammered.

“Ghostly obsession,” Mrs. Fenton’s voice had the tone of the cat getting the cream. “For years, I’d suspected that there was more to the myth of ghostly obsession, but there had been too little evidence, especially from the Ghost King.”

“W-Why do you think this has anything to do with ghostly obsession?” Sam was downright alarmed that Mrs. Fenton had made such a huge leap in logic and identified the true reason so quickly.

“It’s the most logical answer,” Mrs. Fenton said as if it were obvious. “There was never any evidence that Phantom had an obsession in the same way that many ghosts we’ve encountered had; it was the main counterargument behind ghostly obsessions being a more critical component of a ghost’s existence. Surely, they argued, if the King of Ghosts did not have an obsession, then it must not be a universal phenomenon.”

Jazz was playing catch-up in the conversation. “Wait…you’re saying that ghostly obsessions are a part of ghostly existence? That Phantom has one?”

“Yeah, how do you figure that ghostly obsessions are part of all ghosts? Wouldn’t ghost experts have figured that out by now if that were true?” Sam was partly trying to throw Mrs. Fenton off the scent, and partly asking out of curiosity.

Mrs. Fenton pulled out her specially constructed Fenton phone. “I’d been documenting every single ghost that I’d encountered. I began noting what their particular obsession is, not just their abilities and weaknesses. It wasn’t terribly difficult to do it for most of them; the only one that I had trouble classifying was Phantom. He showed no particular specialty in his powers, attacks, or personality. That all changed when Sam got fatally poisoned by Undergrowth. Phantom came out of nowhere in an unhinged rage, completely destroyed one of his loyal subjects for hurting Sam, and then adamantly refused to let Sam die and took her to the Ghost Zone. When Jack and I found you after the fire, Phantom protected you and helped you when you were in shock. I don’t know how it happened, or how Phantom went so long without an obsession for so long, but you are clearly his ghostly obsession.”

Well, fuck. Sam sometimes forgot how much of a genius Maddie Fenton was; it baffled Sam how much the ghost hunter community treated the Fentons like a couple of crackpots.

“I guess there’s no point in trying to deny it,” Sam said resignedly.

Jazz gaped at her. “She’s _right?_ ”

“Of course I try to keep this under wraps and someone figures it out immediately,” Sam complained under her breath.

“I’m _right,_ ” Mrs. Fenton savored the confirmation. “The ghostly obsession of the Ghost King.”

Only then did the words sink into the heads of the Fenton women.

“That’s a big deal,” Jazz said with growing somberness. “It’s not like someone won’t notice the Ghost King following Sam around Berkeley—wait, you _are_ staying in the human world, right?”

“Yes, I will be. Or, I’ll be going back and forth.”

“Why back and forth?”

_Well, if they’ve already figured out this much, I might as well tell them everything_ , Sam thought in defeat. 

As quickly as possible, Sam filled them in on what she’d been told about ghostly obsessions, what had happened ever since she’d slapped the Ghost King in the face, and her plan for how to protect herself and her loved ones from Vlad. The one thing she resolutely decided not to tell them was how…intimate her relationship had gotten with Phantom. There were some things that they really didn’t need to know. That, and…her relationship with Phantom had become...incredibly personal and intimate. It felt like exposing herself far too much, sharing what had happened.

“Wow,” Jazz said faintly when Sam finished. “You, the Ghost Queen. Are you sure that’s safe? That doesn’t sound safe.”

Sam shrugged. “It should be alright. I mean, I’ll be dealing with ghost powers and the responsibility of handling millions of ghosts, but this is the best way to solve the problems I’m facing.” She eyed the two women. “I’m honestly surprised you two are taking this so well. I thought you’d be convinced I was possessed or something.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we checked,” Mrs. Fenton admitted cheerfully. “You passed through a Fenton Ghost Catcher when you walked through any doorway in this house after Phantom left. If you’d been possessed, the ghost would have been kicked out of you several times over.”

Well, that was rather paranoid of them…but effective. It would’ve been exhausting to convince them she wasn’t possessed without a Ghost Catcher. And it sent a jolt of relief to hear that she was still...her. After everything that had happened. “Well, that’s convenient.”

“Although,” Jazz added in a nonchalant tone, “I wonder how much your crush on Phantom played into your decision.”

Sam choked. On what, she wasn’t sure. Air? Her own tongue? For fuck’s sake, she was just getting called out left and right. “I do not,” Sam said hotly. To her complete embarrassment, her cheeks were hot. 

Dammit, even Mrs. Fenton was nodding. “The both of you do.”

Sam’s eyes bulged. Phantom? Having a crush on her? She snorted in disbelief. “No, he doesn’t.”

Mrs. Fenton and Jazz looked at her as if she were an idiot. “Sam,” Jazz said as if she were speaking to a small child, “the way he looks at you, you could stick a Fenton dagger into his heart, and he would just take it out, offer it back to you, and say, ‘I think you dropped this.’”

If Sam thought she’d been really blushing before, her face was completely red now. “I-That-that doesn’t mean he likes me. I’m his obsession.”

“And the tension!” Mrs. Fenton exclaimed at Jazz.

Jazz threw her hand towards her mom in emphasis. “Yes! The sexual tension! You two look like you’re on the verge of either murdering each other or tearing each other’s clothes off. I feel like I’m witnessing something obscene when I’m in the same room as you two arguing.”

“It reminds me of how Jack and I were at your age,” Mrs. Fenton said wistfully.

Jazz and Sam gagged in horror at that wonderful mental image.

“We are nothing like that,” Sam refuted. “He’s bullheaded, annoying, and a smug asshole. He constantly argues with me and we yell at each other more than we don’t.” She slumped. “Not that that’s stopped me from tearing his clothes off,” she said petulantly at herself.

Jazz coughed. “Um, excuse me, what was that?” she asked gleefully. “Did you say something about tearing his clothes off?”

Shit, her and her damn mouth. Cheeks flaming red, she muttered, “We may have done things that weren’t so platonic.”

Jazz cackled. “Sam, you slept with him?!” 

Sam covered her face with her palms. “I don’t know how it happened!” she whined. “We were arguing and then then we were kissing and then it led to more. That’s how it always seems to happen. Or, I guess that’s how it happened the first time.”

“Oh my god, how many times have you slept with him?”

“A few,” Sam admitted.

“And you seriously think that he doesn’t like you?”

Sam shrugged cynically. “I first thought that he was...interested in me because he considered me his new toy to play with and discard whenever he got bored. After learning that I’m his obsession...I don’t know anymore. And whatever he thinks of me, how can I know that it’s not just from the ghostly obsession?”

“Is that really how ghostly obsessions work? They dictate the emotions of the ghost like that?” Mrs. Fenton’s voice was part scientific curiosity, part motherly concern.

“I don’t know.” Sam slumped further, and crossed her arms. “Fuck. I’m an idiot. And I thought Gregor was bad.”

Mrs. Fenton rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. “Your situation is definitely unique, and we don’t really have the full background and experience to give you any solid advice. I don’t really know if I have the right to tell you whether it’s a good idea or not to wear the Ring of Rage.” Mrs. Fenton hesitated. “I won’t lie and tell you that I don’t have any doubts about Phantom and what it means for you two to be in any kind of relationship. All I know is that you’re in the position to judge it best, and you’re one of the most level-headed and smartest people I know.”

Sam didn’t know whether to be reassured or depressed at Mrs. Fenton’s words.

Jazz took up the other side of Sam. “I don’t really know how to feel about Phantom or you becoming the Ghost Queen because you’re forced to,” Jazz admitted. “But my mom’s right, you’re a good person, Sam. You’ll make the right decision, and we’ll be there for you if you need us.”

Sam finally smiled and leaned into them. “Thanks, Jazz, Mrs. Fenton,” she murmured. The sincere, heartfelt words felt awkward on her tongue; she wasn’t the emotionally vulnerable type. “I…appreciate the support, since Undergrowth’s first attack.”

“Of course, sweetie,” Mrs. Fenton said warmly. “You’ve practically become an additional member of the family. Plus, you’ve become one of the best ghost hunters out there! We couldn’t be more proud of you.”


	11. control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late but better late than ever! You all are so kind to me with your comments, I appreciate each and every one of them so much. Enjoy the next chapter :D

The sun had set long ago by the time Phantom reappeared outside of the ghost shield.

Cautiously, Sam approached the shield where Phantom was waiting. It had been an anxious waiting game. Sam had felt like she was checking the window every five minutes. She refused, absolutely refused, to let herself think about her earlier conversation with Mrs. Fenton and Jazz.

“You’re back,” she said, then winced. State the obvious, why don’t you?

His mouth quirked. “I am,” he said dryly.

There was an awkward silence.

“If you’ve changed your mind and don’t want to do this anymore, you don’t have to say anything,” Phantom said quietly. A dark shroud had fallen over him. “You can just walk back inside.”

“It’s not that,” Sam said quickly. She so badly wanted to say,  _ It’s more like I’m starting to develop feelings for you and I’m terrified that you won’t ever feel the same way, and it’ll always be a one-sided relationship after we bind ourselves to each other for eternity. Or worse, that you do feel the same way, but it’s only because your ghost obsession wired your brain to make you happy to be as close to me as possible. Can I ever trust that your feelings for me are genuine? _

But Sam would rather eat bleached-soaked meat than actually say any of that, so she only said, “I just…I don’t know what question you expected me to ask to prove it was you.”

Phantom smirked at her.

A thought occurred to Sam, and Sam bit her lip.  _ Should she… Could she… Oh, fuck it. _

“Do you remember,” Sam said slowly, “what you told me after I realized who you were? When I had told you to go ahead and kill me?”

Phantom tilted his head to the side. “I think I pointed out how easy it would be to torture and kill you,” he said in a measured tone. “And then I asked why you weren’t doing anything to change my mind.”

Sam gave a short nod. “What made you decide not to kill me? Was it just because of the obsession?”

Phantom released a long exhale. “If I’m being completely honest with you, I don’t know. I need you to understand that the obsession is as much a part of me as my personality. There is no duality. And the process of forming an obsession still isn’t really understood. All I know is that you caught my attention, and the pull only got stronger.” Phantom smirked. “And by catching my attention, I mean you slapping me in the face.”

Sam snorted at the reminder. She pressed. “And when did you know?”

He gave her an intense look. “The thought crossed my mind in that alleyway.” The kiss, Sam remembered. “You wanted an explanation for what had happened, and I couldn’t find an answer. I didn’t know for sure until Undergrowth.”

Sam nodded. That made sense. “Do you regret it?” she wondered. “Killing him in the heat of the moment.”

“No,” he said resolutely. “Not when he was threatening to kill you. Not after I heard what you had to deal with afterwards.” He gave her a crooked grin. “Plus, I could only take him blathering on about ‘the blight of the human race’ and the superiority of plants for so long. At some point, it was either me or Ember that would’ve killed him, and I ordered Ember to stop murdering people she doesn’t like without express permission.”

Sam couldn’t help but laugh. It touched her that he took it so personally, the way Undergrowth had treated her, and what she had to deal with after she had been free of his influence. She turned around to the house, where the Fentons were peering out the window, waiting for her signal. Sam raised her fingers together, forming a circle above her head. It was undoubtedly him. 

At Sam’s signal, the ghost shield was disabled for a split second. Phantom didn’t hesitate; he appeared right next to her before the shield had already settled.

“Did you reach everyone on your Council?” Sam asked Phantom as they walked back to the house.

“I only saw a couple of them in person,” Phantom replied. “The ones not imprisoned by Vlad had checked in with the ghosts I’d seen. They’re alright, working undercover in both the Ghost Zone and the human world.”

“What are they doing undercover?”

At that, Phantom smiled, and it sent a shiver up Sam’s spine. It wasn’t the smile that matched his human disguise. Instead, it reminded Sam of Wulf baring a grin, his deathly fangs exposed. “Hunting,” was all Phantom said.

It really said something that Sam wasn’t afraid of him when he was like this. “Okaaay…did they have any information about what Vlad is up to?”

“Bits and pieces, but they’ll likely have more soon.” Sam stopped hearing footsteps behind her, and turned in curiosity. Phantom stood, his expression serious. “One thing before we go inside,” he said carefully. “I managed to send out some orders. Wulf is now invisibly watching over your parents with orders to kill any threats to them, or take them to an undisclosed place to hide them. I have another soldier doing the same for your human friend and his family. They’ll be safe.”

Tears welled in Sam’s eyes, and Sam had to blink rapidly to keep them at bay. She had been deathly worried about her parents and her friends. She had debated with Mrs. Fenton and Jazz about how to ensure their safety, but nothing had felt adequate. It had torn her up inside, because doing nothing and leaving the people she cared about vulnerable felt a lot like signing their death warrants. It had heavily weighed on her mind when she had asked Mrs. Fenton about caring for her grandmother until a funeral could be held. It broke Sam’s heart that they couldn’t do a funeral the next day, but she knew that the situation made it virtually impossible. Hearing that Phantom had assigned someone as fierce as Wulf to protect her loved ones felt like the weight of the sky lifting from her shoulders.

Impulsively, she threw her arms around him. “Thank you,” she breathed. “You have no idea how much that means to me.” 

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her waist. “It was the least I could do,” he said quietly.

Sam took a deep breath, the scent of frost and electricity bringing a sense of comfort. Reluctantly, she pulled away. Sam’s mouth curled into a smile. “Do I know the ghost who’s watching Tucker?”

Phantom shook his head. “He’s usually in the human world, intel-gathering for me.”

“And they know that they can’t reveal themselves to them, right? Not only do they not know that their lives are in danger, they’re not huge fans of ghosts. My parents especially.”

“They know to be discreet. Surprisingly, Wulf can be pretty subtle when he wants to be, and let’s just say the other ghost’s talents are perfect for this task.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press. She was content, knowing that her loved ones would be safe. She was surprised to realize that she trusted him.

They returned to their approach to the door. Sam opened the door.

Jazz eyed the pair of them walking in together and it made Sam want to strangle her. “You’re back,” Jazz said to Phantom, unknowing echoing Sam.

Phantom raised an eyebrow. “I am,” he replied, his tone noticeably cooler.

“Phantom! Good trip?” Mr. Fenton boomed from the kitchen. He was, to Sam’s amazement, happily eating a full roasted turkey, completely uncaring of the ghost. Mrs. Fenton had gone to talk to her husband earlier in the day, while they had been waiting for Phantom to return. Whatever she’d told him had changed his mood dramatically; Mr. Fenton had gone from suspiciously going from window to window and swinging the Jack o-Nine Tails at anything that moved to contentedly watching a sitcom. Sam had been dying to ask Mrs. Fenton what she’d said to him, but also didn’t want to know.

Phantom looked like he didn’t know whether to be offended at the complete lack of fear this human was showing or concerned at the level of green the turkey on the table was. The ghost settled on ignoring him. He turned to Sam. “If you’re determined to still go through with this, now is the time to back out,” Phantom murmured.

Taking the Ring. A thousand thoughts sped through Sam’s mind. Deep down, though, Sam knew her answer hadn’t changed. “I’m ready.”

Phantom’s expression didn’t flicker, showing no reaction. He only said, “Let’s use the basement, then.”

“We’re watching too,” Mrs. Fenton broke in. Unlike Mr. Fenton, Mrs. Fenton and Jazz were alert and stubbornly staring down Phantom.

Phantom raised an eyebrow at them. “You two know, and you’re not stopping her?”

Jazz jutted her chin out, her arms crossed. “Our job is to support Sam, not tell her what to do.”

Phantom rolled his eyes, sighing “humans” in an exasperated tone. “You can’t be down there with us,” he told the two Fenton women. “The basement is the only place in this house that can withstand the aftershock of her taking the Ring, but neither of you would survive. A lot of energy gets released, similar to a bomb going off. It’s not exactly productive for me to split my attention between protecting you two and watching Sam.” He cocked his eyebrow. “Unless you want to be shredded by ghostly energy?”

Mrs. Fenton opened her mouth, ready to argue, but Sam cut her off. “It’s okay, Mrs. Fenton.” She shot Phantom an unimpressed look at the sarcastic comment. He looked unfazed.

Mrs. Fenton cast her an unhappy look; she was a lot less approving of being barred from watching. She reluctantly said, “We’ll be right outside the door.”

The basement door closed behind Sam and Phantom with a final, echoing clang as the pair went down the stairs. In silence, they walked to the center of the lab and faced one another.

“I want you to promise me something,” Phantom started. His disguise had faded somewhere on the walk down, and he glowed more ethereally than usual. More ghostlike.

Sam crossed her arms. “If you’re going to ask me to promise that I’ll stay in the Ghost Zone for all eternity, or for me to be just a compliant, submissive Queen, you better adjust your expectations now. If I’m doing this, then I’m not going to do this half-assed. If you and I are going to share this power, then I refuse to accept anything less than us being equals. And that means passing between the human and ghost dimensions whenever I want.”

Phantom shook his head. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. Protecting you and my reign won’t work unless you have just as much power and authority as I do. And you’ll pick up the rules and customs quickly enough. No, I wanted you to promise me you’ll tell me if you no longer want to be Queen, regardless of the situation we’re in.”

A weird request,and Sam couldn’t figure out why Phantom deemed it necessary. If anything, Sam expected him to want the opposite out of fear that his obsession would leave or die. Regardless, she didn’t see a problem with what he asked.

“I promise.”

Phantom raised his right hand and closed his eyes. The Ring of Rage rippled into existence on his finger. A sharp tug, and it was in his palm.

“Do you agree to share the burden of this power with me, Phantom, the Ghost King?” The air took on this heavy, monumental quality. Sam felt the ceremony in his words.

“I do,” Sam heard herself say.

“Do you agree to represent all beings and inhabitants within the Ghost Zone, and uphold and protect the interests of this kingdom and its beings for the rest of your existence, as long as you possess the Ring of Rage?”

“Yes, I agree.”

Phantom reached for her right hand. This close, Sam could  _ feel _ the power emanating from the Ring. It vibrated, with a presence that felt ancient, unyielding, and  _ hungry _ . Hungry for a wielder or to consume someone inside and out, Sam wasn’t sure. Her heartbeat pounded loudly in her throat.

Sam raised her head to look at Phantom and found him already looking back. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were softer than she’d ever seen. The promise he’d asked of her reverberated in her head.

She placed her hand in his. She felt warm metal slide onto her finger.

Her senses exploded. Sam doubled over, gasping. She felt like energy the size of the Sun was being poured into her body and her skin was about to burst from it. The energy pressed against every part of her, suffocating her like she was drowning in lava. Every molecule of her being screamed in agony.  _ It’s too much, it— _ Frightened, Sam could do nothing but let herself be consumed.

Just when Sam was about to succumb, something solid and unyielding grasped her, moving through her, shielding her from the molten, destructive energy. It reoriented Sam, and suddenly she could feel someone gripping onto her, one arm around her back and another around her hand.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you,” Sam heard Phantom saying distantly. “C’mon, you’re strong and stubborn. Control  _ it _ , not the other way around.”

Sluggishly, the words penetrated her brain. If she stopped fighting, then that would be it. She would be lost, and it would be over. She couldn’t do that. Not to her family. Not to Tucker. Not to Phantom.

She made promises, and like hell would she break them.

She gathered any strength left in her. Phantom’s protective hold on whatever was inside her became deliberately thin, and she tore through it easily, meeting the Ring halfway. It rushed eagerly to resume its destruction. This time she was more prepared. Even still, she stumbled at the sheer strength she was up against. It felt like she was stopping Niagara Falls with her pinky finger. She wanted to scream.

_ Control  _ it, _ not the other way around _ .

Sam lashed out in anger and desperation. She took all the pain and anger and frustration that’d been boiling inside her and funneled it into her attack. Two wills crashed together, demanding submission. Her lungs felt like they were on fire. She shrieked in pain, but pushed and pushed and pushed. With a scream, Sam barreled down against the energy, never backing down, refusing to give an inch. And then, finally, it gave away. Bit by bit, Sam took over more ground, until Sam had the energy contained in a small, compact ball, swirling with power.

The world spun back into focus. Phantom still held her steady. Sam gasped as if she’d been drowning. Brain fuzzy, she somehow managed to focus on her right hand. Every muscle in her body protested at even twisting her hand palm down.

The Ring of Rage gleamed almost innocently at her, not even looking like it had just tried to kill her. There was something slightly off with the way it looked against her hand. It took a few seconds to realize that she was  _ glowing _ . Literally glowing. She then took in her surroundings and found in astonishment that the entire basement looked like it had endured an explosion; every piece of glassware had shattered, nearby tables and chairs had been blown back and ripped apart. Every piece of flammable material was scorched almost beyond recognition.

“Holy shit,” Sam croaked.

Phantom pulled back slightly to look at her. “You alright?”

“I think?” Sam looked down at herself again, still wincing at moving her body. She was still glowing. “Can I not stop glowing?” A note of panic entered her voice. 

“You will, the Ring’s power is just settling in.” He rubbed her back.

Seeing that Sam was stable enough to stand on her own, Phantom stepped back completely. He still surveyed her critically. Sam couldn’t quite place it, but there was something different about him. She stared dumbly at him before she found it. “Your eyes are green!” she said, alarmed. 

Phantom gave her a confused look. There was a mirror that had originally been propped against a cabinet (likely there for experiment purposes) that had shattered. There was only one remnant shard large enough to reflect, and Phantom peeked at a shard of glass. “Huh. My eyes turned green,” was all he said.

“What does that mean? Has that happened before?”

“It hasn’t, and I don’t know.” He didn’t seem particularly concerned about the revelation. He said quietly, “You did it. You contained it on your own.”

Sam shook her head rapidly, still on edge. “I barely feel like I have a hold on it—“

“You just tamed it into submission; it now recognizes its new master.” His new electric green eyes never leaving hers, he inclined his head in a motion of respect. “My Queen.”

Reality crashed down upon her. _ Oh my fucking hell, I’m the Queen of the Ghost Zone. _

* * *

Even though the Ring of Rage accepted her as its new wielder, Sam learned that it sure as hell didn’t mean that it wouldn’t continue to try devouring her. Sam got no relief; even the slightest loss of focus, the smallest slip in concentration, and then the Ring surged, smelling the chink in her armor, and leapt to pounce. It felt like eons before she shoved it back into its little ball. Things would be alright for a while, but then Sam would get distracted and then the cycle would start all over again.

In short, Sam was exhausted.

Through it all, Phantom was surprisingly patient with her. He stood with her for what would be hours at a time as she waged war inside herself. When Sam had not been cursing up a storm and felt in control enough to be doing something else, then he would guide her through how to let the energy flow through her body without letting it escape her control.

Sam remembered back when she had been training to be a ghost hunter. At the time, learning how to do hand-to-hand combat had been tough but rewarding work. Learning how to use the weapons had been more difficult; it required learning accuracy and becoming so familiar with the weapons that they felt like they were an extension of her. That had taken more time. But physical feats had always been something that came easily to her; she had always excelled in P.E., much to Dash’s chagrin.

Becoming a ghost hunter was a piece of cake compared to controlling the Ring of Rage. It was all internal; it had nothing to do with physical stamina or how strong her body was. It was purely mental, worse than studying for a difficult test or being in a mental battle of wits with her parents. This was pure willpower against willpower, and Sam couldn’t afford to lose. She understood how the Ring’s predecessors had gone mad.

Several hours in, Phantom abruptly looked up. “My Council is here,” he announced.

Sam blinked at the announcement. “How do you know?”

Phantom gave her a secretive, sly smirk. “Can you not feel them?”

And Sam amazingly realized that yes, she could actually feel them. Three presences, fluttering across her senses. Close and getting closer. “Can you always feel other ghosts like this?” Sam asked him in astonishment.

Phantom nodded. “The senses become more acute and sensitive when you’re in the Ghost Zone. You’ll be able to count exactly how many ghosts are in the borders of the Ghost Zone at any given time. And as you meet more ghosts with your new powers, you’ll be able to identify each individual ghost and where they are.”

To Sam, that sounded like information overload. “Doesn’t that become exhausting, always being able to sense on that scale constantly?”

“You’ll be able to tune it out until you need it with practice, like all the powers you have. You’ll have to learn how to control them at will instead of forcing blanket control over all of them.” He assessed her carefully. “Are you okay to go upstairs and meet them?”

Sam grimaced. “I think I have it under control.” For now, at least.

They walked upstairs and found Jazz and Mrs. Fenton sitting at the kitchen table, surprised that they’d emerged. They’d come down just once after Sam had taken the Ring, and had left Sam and Phantom to train, looking unsettled.

Mrs. Fenton set down her glass of water. “You’re back.”

“Well, you’re not glowing anymore, so that must mean progress,” Jazz noted dryly.

Jazz was right. As Phantom had predicted, her simply becoming accustomed to the constant yearning to expand the energy inside of her had tamed the glow. Learning how to contain it had lessened the glow as it learned what its boundaries were.

“Some of Phantom’s Council is outside the shield,” Sam told the two Fenton women. “They likely have news.”

“And you want to bring them  _ here _ ?”

Sam scratched at her head. She only now realized how uncomfortable that could make the Fentons, which was incredibly dumb and obtuse of her. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Fenton, but this is the only secure place we can plan to stop Vlad,” she said contritely.

Mrs. Fenton groaned in the back of her throat loudly before relenting. “Fine, but I’m the one letting them in.”

So Sam watched Mrs. Fenton strap her on a Specter Deflector and a wrist ray, then went out the front door.

“So…how’s learning ghost powers?” Jazz said casually.

Sam snorted. “Slow. I can barely contain all the power, let alone use it without something exploding. Phantom says it will take time for the Ring to stop trying to take control from me all the time. I apologize about the state of your lab in advance.”

Jazz hummed as she sipped some tea. “Well, I guess it would be weird if you could control all that power within a day.”

“Still,” Sam grumbled, “we don’t have time for me to take months or years to master this.” Sam was very aware of the clock ticking over their head. Vlad wouldn’t wait to completely overthrow Phantom until she got a handle on the Ring's power. She needed to master this  _ now, _ or more people were going to get hurt.

The front door opened, and in walked Ember, Spectra…and a female ghost in a leather jacket and fishnets Sam didn’t recognize. Mrs. Fenton came in last, shutting the door behind her without taking her eyes off the ghosts.

Three steps into the house, and Spectra hissed. Her eyes narrowed into slits and she bared her teeth at Sam. The strong, aggressive reaction took Sam off guard, and her control slipped. The kitchen table she was sitting next to blew back, crashing into the fridge. Jazz, thankfully out of the line of fire, fell back in her chair. Phantom moved to stand between Sam and Spectra.

“ _ You gave it to her? _ ” Spectra spat at Phantom. “You gave this human child the full power of the Ghost Zone? Are you insane?”

“Frostbite was right,” Phantom replied calmly, indifferent in the face of the furious ghost. “She and I are both better protected this way, making the Ghost Zone better protected as a whole.”

“You didn’t have to give it to  _ her! _ Anyone on the Council would have shared. Any ghost would have been better.  _ I _ would have been bette—“ she stopped, remembering herself.

While Phantom didn’t seem surprised, he also didn’t look pleased by the outburst. He warned with a pulse of power, “You might have value as a Spymaster, Spectra, but I won’t accept rebellion or treason because of your obsessive need for beauty and perfection and power. You stand before your new Queen,  _ give her the respect she deserves. _ ”

Ember and the unfamiliar ghost dropped into a bow without hesitation. After another stronger, undeniable pulse of power from Phantom, so did Spectra with a scowl.

Seeing three ghosts, including one who she’d never met before, bow in humility to Sam felt…weird. They had immediately recognized Sam’s newly given power and the status it gave her. It made Sam’s new position as Ghost Queen real.

Phantom addressed the new ghost. “Kitty, why are you here?”

“Ember and Spectra asked me to join the hunt, my King,” the new ghost Kitty replied. “They thought my skill set would be particularly helpful.” She smirked proudly at him.

Phantom raised an eyebrow. “Who do you have for me?”

“A traitor who has information on your enemy.” Kitty spun to face the empty space in the living room. She pressed her fingers to her puckered lips, and blew a kiss. The kiss manifested into a projection that grew in size as it flew away from Kitty. A few feet away, it paused and burst, and from it appeared a dazed, confused, and bound Aragon.

The lights dimmed, and shadows shivered. Phantom hadn’t moved, not even twitched, but something hungry and vengeful swelled from within him. 

The energy within Sam stirred, and Sam hurried to stifle it.

Aragon took one look at Phantom and cringed fearfully, his bound hands rising in front of him defensively. His pendant that helped him escape last time was noticeably absent.

“Aragon.” Phantom only uttered one word, but his voice promised many, many terrible things. Both Jazz and Mrs. Fenton visibly shuddered.

Likely realizing that there was no way to escape his King’s wrath, Aragon resorted to begging. “My King, I beg of you—“

An inhuman snarl escaped Phantom’s throat. Aragon cringed.

“What is Plasmius planning? This is your only chance to redeem yourself.”

There was the smallest pause as Aragon hesitated; even under threat of the Ghost King, the Dragon Prince wanted Vlad Plasmius to succeed. Phantom sniffed out the disloyalty like a shark and struck. Shadows from the corners of the room lunged for the traitorous ghost, smothering Aragon into a shroud of writhing, cloying darkness. Aragon flailed in terror, writhing to break free. The shadows slithered soundlessly, and Sam could see Aragon’s gaping, shadowed mouth as he screamed.

Phantom only left the shadows on Aragon for a minute before he waved his hand, loosening the shadows’ hold on Aragon. Aragon gasped as if he'd been drowning, his face so pale he was almost translucent.

Phantom remained calm, controlled. “What is Plasmius planning?” he repeated.

Any resistance Aragon had was reduced to dust. “He wants you destroyed, and for a new King to take your place. As soon as he found out you had an ancra, he wanted to control it so he could control you. Once she moved out of our reach, we targeted anyone in your ancra’s orbit, the closer the better.”

The confession had Sam’s rage spiking. “Who was the one who destroyed my grandma’s home?” Sam demanded.

For the first time since his attack on the road, Aragon’s eyes fell on Sam. In an instant, Aragon’s mouth fell open in horror. “ _ You? _ A-A  _ human _ ?” Aragon’s eyes slitted. “You slander the power and the crown, you filthy, worthless peas—“

Phantom engulfed him in the shadows. A snap of the Ghost King’s fingers, and then the shadows lit up with angry, green energy. Aragon fell onto his back, writhing on the ground.

Sam shuddered through a deep breath. Her control was already thin and fraying, and meeting one of the actors behind her grandmother’s murder was causing that control to come perilously close to shredding. The Ring shivered in eager anticipation of being unleashed.

“You alright?” Phantom asked her quietly. 

Sam clenched her jaw and nodded. She wouldn’t let herself lose control right now, not when the information Aragon had meant her loved ones could be safe.

Phantom studied her for a moment longer. His new electric green eyes still startled her at times. He then turned back to Aragon and released him from the shadows again. He told a sobbing Aragon: “You have five minutes to tell me all of Plasmius’ plan, or I will keep you locked in the shadows for all of eternity.”

The threat was short but effective. The words spilled out of Aragon’s mouth like a dam had burst. “As soon as Plasmius gets a steady control of the Ghost Zone, he plans on possessing every country’s leader that would be needed to transfer the country’s power to his human form. It will allow him to become the leader of the entire human world. Once that occurs, he will transfer sovereignty to me. I would then become the sole ruler of both the human and ghost worlds, crowning myself King of the Living and Dead.”

“That’s a mouthful,” Mr. Fenton muttered as Jazz asked out loud, “Why would Vlad have transferred the power to you? Why wouldn’t he have just kept the power and become the King of Whatever himself?”

Aragon’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Plasmius said that the humans wouldn’t protest or question if the sovereignty was originally from a human. And he told me that I was the one who should undoubtedly be King.”

Wow, was he really that dumb? Sam exchanged baffled glances with Jazz. Ember was looking at Aragon as if he were a bug that kept on throwing itself against a window.

Phantom played on Aragon’s delusion. “And what were both of your plans to get the Ring of Rage and Crown of Fire?”

“Plasmius said that if exploiting your obsession didn’t work, then he had a weapon he could use to destroy you and we could take the Ring and Crown off your remains.”

Phantom’s eyes narrowed at that. “What weapon?” he probed.

Aragon winced. “I don’t know,” he admitted meekly.

Phantom’s voice cracked down like a whip. “You don’t know?”

Aragon stammered as he tried to defend himself. “It didn’t seem necessary at the time! I had things like my coronation to think about.”

It was clear there was no more useful information they would get out of Aragon. Sam walked and crouched in front of Aragon, much to a few voices hissing at her in protest. This was something she needed to say, and Aragon would hear it from her now. “Your entire reason for existing was to become King, and it was because of it that my grandmother is dead,” Sam said quietly. “And I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for that. But the thing that’ll keep me warm at night is the thought that your actions caused a ‘worthless peasant’ like me to become the Ghost Queen.”

Aragon's face twisted in rage, but Sam had already risen and moved away. He wasn't worthy of getting to respond.

Phantom gave a frustrated growl. “Kitty,” the implied command was obvious.

Without further prompting, Kitty blew a kiss at Aragon. The imprisoned ghost’s eyes glowed red before he disappeared with a pop.

Phantom rounded on Spectra. “Have you heard anything about a weapon?”

Spectra’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I have not, my King.”

Phantom snarled at the answer. “I want answers. I want to know where Plasmius is at any moment, what he’s doing, who he’s talking to. Find out what the weapon is within twenty-four hours, or I’ll have your head.”

Spectra dropped into a bow.

Mrs. Fenton said, “I’ll, uh, escort you three out.”

As the front door closed behind the visiting ghosts and Mrs. Fenton, Phantom raked a hand through his hair in frustration. Sam moved to stand next to him. While seeing Aragon again had bubbled up a multitude of emotions for her, she needed to focus on the problems they had now.

“I don’t like the possibility of Plasmius having a secret weapon to destroy me,” Phantom muttered to Sam. “There may be a chance that Plasmius was lying to Aragon, giving him more false assurances that he would get the throne so that he would do Plasmius’ bidding. But Plasmius is the kind of person that likes back-up plans and eliminating variables.”

“But nothing has the power to defeat the Ghost King, right?” Sam interjected.

“There hasn’t been an instance where a being’s power outmatched the Ring and the Crown,” Phantom confirmed slowly. Still, he seemed uneasy. “Let’s get back to your training.”

Sam was cool with that.

* * *

Sweat dripped down the back of Sam’s neck. She felt the Ring’s power coursing through her veins, eager to escape. It was solely from practicing dozens and dozens of times that she could tighten her hold on it, restraining it from escaping.

She summoned a mental image of the Fentons’ kitchen. She pictured the distance between her position in the basement and the kitchen, and the energy moving from one place to the other. She willed the power to obey.

Only, like all the other times she’d tried this, nothing happened.

Sam strained with the effort, trying desperately to control the energy, but her strength weakened the longer she kept hold of the power. Eventually, it became too much, and she dropped it with a gasp of fatigue and disappointment.

She leaned forward and rested her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. “This isn’t working,” she complained to Phantom, who had been floating in the air watching her.

Phantom was far more nonchalant about her failure than she wanted. “You’ll get it. Just try it again.”

She glared at him. “Thanks for the super helpful advice,” she said sarcastically.

He dropped his head back to give her a look upside down. “I’ve already told you how the teleportation works, there’s not much else I can do except teleporting you myself, which isn’t the point. It’ll take as long as it takes for it to click.”

Sam sighed, not liking that reply. They had spent hours together in this basement, and Sam had spent almost every minute of it exploring the bounds of her new powers. The only time she took a break was when she became too hungry to function or she was about to collapse from exhaustion. It boggled her mind at times, the power she had at her fingertips, and with each new ability Phantom showed her. Learning to master the Ring of Rage was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

Phantom twisted himself upright in midair. “If it helps,” he offered, “you have better control of your powers than I had when I took the throne.”

Sam forced herself to mask her surprise. In all the time they’d been down here, Phantom had been closed off, almost professional. There was no hint of vulnerability or intimacy that they’d had before.

_ You’re his Queen now, _ Sam reminded herself within the first hour after coming down from Aragon’s visit.  _ That doesn’t mean he has to care about you. And why would he? _

So Sam ignored her feelings on being locked away in a room alone with him. Until now.

Sam pushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind one ear. “Really?” she said casually. And doubtfully, because she couldn’t believe that he struggled more than her to control her powers. She’d seen what he was capable of, and he did it all as easily as breathing. 

“I had both the Crown and the Ring to handle, remember?” he reminded her.

True. The question leaped out of her before she could stop it. “Is this what it was like after you were first crowned?”

There was a pause at that. “No, it wasn’t,” was all he said.

“Oh.” Sam didn’t know how else to respond to that. She shuffled her feet awkwardly.

There was silence. Sam wanted to change the subject, to go back to the time when she was just trying to teleport at will.

But at the same time…she was the Ghost Queen now, and in this with him for who knew how long. She deserved to know.

The thought gave her the courage to say, “Could you tell me about it?”

For a moment, Sam thought he was going to just ignore her. Several beats passed, and Sam was about to give up on it, when Phantom finally spoke, his eyes affixed on the bolts on the wall. “I didn’t have anyone to mentor me in this new power that had been just handed to me. None of the other ghosts could even comprehend what I was struggling with, let alone how to wrangle it. I was holding both the Crown and the Ring, and I was just barely keeping it together. And there was no room for error.”

Sam felt the need to break the heavy mood. “Well,” she said lightly, “accidentally burning a hole through a wall doesn’t seem like a life or death situation.”

Phantom was already shaking his head before she finished her sentence. “You don’t understand.” He didn’t say it condescendingly. It was more like a statement of fact. 

He hesitated for a moment. He started slowly. “When I took the throne…Pariah Dark had just been defeated. It was the first time the Ghost Zone had gotten a new King in…Only a small handful of ghosts are old enough to remember. I didn’t even exist halfway through what would become the full length of Dark’s reign. So the destruction of Pariah’s regime left the Ghost Zone very, very fragile. Not from external forces—humans were too primitive at the time to be a threat—but from within. The real threats were the ghosts who didn’t want me as King: those who wanted Pariah to return, those who wanted another ghost on the throne, or those who wanted themselves on the throne. I needed to crush any hint of rebellion or mutiny as quickly as possible, and the only way I could do that was by using my new powers as Ghost King to establish dominance. That’s why I didn’t have time to find someone to wear the Ring or Crown, someone who I could trust and could endure the power. I didn’t have any allies or the Council like I do now. I couldn’t afford a mistake, because a mistake meant that I would be locked away or, at worst, destroyed into oblivion.”

Sam bit her lip as she chewed on the image he’d painted for her. “That would be a lot for anyone to go through.” Since he was sharing… “Can I ask? What is it like, wearing both the Crown and the Ring together? Is it like what I’m dealing with now?”

Phantom shook his head again. “No, you haven’t reached for the power I’m holding, and I haven’t offered it to you yet. Right now, the Ring and Crown are kind of operating like two separate entities with two separate powers; at their most functional and powerful, they effectively become one and the same, the same vessel for a singular, all-consuming power. The Ring is enough for you to handle when training right now. You can practice with both later after you’ve mastered the Ring.”

“Could you remove the barrier right now?” At Phantom’s instant denial, she defended her request. “I just want to know how far I have left to go. Plus, I want to get some idea of what you had to go through when you were first crowned.”

Phantom sighed but didn’t refuse. “Only for a second,” he warned. “Just because I did it doesn’t mean that you should. The Ring is hard enough.”

“Trust me, I don’t disagree. I just want to know how bad it gets, if the total power combined is worse than I’m dealing with now. I want to know what I’m working towards.” It was just how Sam was. She liked knowing every worst-case scenario so she could prepare beforehand. Her mom always complained that Sam was far too pessimistic, too focused on the negative. In Sam’s mind, though, it was merely practical for her to completely understand what she was getting into. The truth that Pamela didn’t understand was that, oftentimes, Sam calculated that the updates of a certain option were worth the consequences of rule-breaking.

Sam straightened, bracing herself when Phantom closed his eyes.

Sam couldn’t exactly feel the so-called barrier that Phantom talked about. She didn’t have that level of awareness to sense anything outside the Ring and her own body. So she didn’t feel when Phantom dropped the barrier. She knew immediately when he had.

In that split second, Sam thought that the world was going to end. 

Together, the power, merged as one, didn’t try to consume her. No, it had already consumed her. She was a single atom in the entire universe of something far older and greater than her. She felt the entire fabric of life and death and between around her, in her, and how with just a nudge she could burn the entire thing to the ground.

And then Phantom split the power apart, returning the Crown’s powers back to its host. The Crown disappeared from her senses. Sam reeled in the aftermath. 

“How—“ Sam shook, trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. “How did you survive?” Because, given the full powers of the Ghost King, she wouldn’t have. She would’ve burst like a supernova and welcomed oblivion. Or welcomed madness to cope.

Phantom’s eyes were fathomless. He replied simply. “The Ghost Zone needed me.”

Looking into the eyes of the Ghost King, Sam knew the destruction he could cause. Sam wasn’t naive. Phantom wasn’t completely innocent, and there were reasons why the human world still feared him. But, at the end of the day, Phantom had generally kept the peace between all of his subjects and the human world. Humans still had their own autonomy. Vlad had no intention of allowing that autonomy under his rule. This power-hungry creature would take all the power he could get and raze every obstacle in his way. 

All in all, she stood next to Phantom, and was glad.


	12. let me live | let me die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uhhh... this chapter has a lot happening. Warning: this is a fairly dark chapter, so I would caution those who don't care for dark scenes to be careful.

Sam still hadn’t teleported three days after seeing Aragorn. Spectra had not shown up, nor had Bertrand. Phantom was suspicious.

During Sam’s lunch break, Sam asked him, “Do you think they defected?”

“They either defected or something happened to them. If something happened to them, then it means they got caught, which is not like them at all. They’re very good at moving under the radar.”

Personally, Sam thought that Spectra had betrayed them and changed sides. But Phantom knew his Spymaster far better than she did. “We have to do something. None of your Councilmembers have checked in and Plasmius has been meeting with a bunch of Senators in DC. He has to be influencing Congress to be giving him the power that he wants. We’re running out of time.”

“Not hearing from them doesn’t mean that they were killed,” Phantom said steadily. “They’re on my Council for a reason, and they’ve survived a lot.”

Sam pursed her lips in dissatisfaction. She was antsy. “So we’re just going to stay here while Plasmius takes over the world?”

Phantom rolled his eyes. “You know we’re not. We’ll wait another two days, and if no one has checked in by then, then I’ll go and find them.”

Sam huffed, but conceded. She then scooped up some hummus with a cracker and popped it in her mouth.

Jazz walked in, an odd look on her face and her hands carrying today’s mail.

Sam cocked her head at the sight. “Are you okay, Jazz?”

The other woman snapped to attention. “Huh? Uh, yeah, it’s just...you got a letter.”

Sam furrowed her brow. “What? It got sent to this house?”

“Yeah, I’m trying to figure out how someone could have known that you were here. Also, the envelope only has your name on it; it doesn’t have an address or a stamp.”

Baffled, Sam held her hand out for the envelope. Jazz passed it to her. Sure enough, it was a simple cream-colored envelope, with only her name written in a simple black script. There were no other distinguishing marks. Sam patted the envelope. “It doesn’t feel fully flat, there must be something else other than paper in here,” Sam noted.

Phantom’s eyes were narrowed in suspicion. “Does anyone know that Sam is here?”

“We’ve kept it completely quiet.”

Sam tore at the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of cardstock and a plastic bag. Sam pulled out the plastic bag first.

“Is that…hair?” Jazz squinted.

“From two different people.” Sam squinted at it. There were two locks, tied separately with string to keep the strands from escaping. One was black, the other orange.

“What does the card say?” Phantom’s voice was tight.

Sam looked at the card. Cold doused her like a waterfall. Sam said, her voice trembling, “It says… ‘Your mother says hello.’”

Jazz sucked in a breath. Her mind went to the same place as Sam’s.

Sam re-examined the hair with a chilling new perspective.

The orange lock of hair, smooth and curling, perfectly matched her mother's elegant bob.

“Sam,” Jazz breathed, “the black hair—”

Sam grasped at her own hair while rubbing at the black batch. The shade matched, and the sample was straight like hers.

Sam felt the rage of Phantom first. She glanced at him. An aura of crimson red leaked off his skin, but his eyes blazed a green as unrelenting and bright as a supernova. For a brief second, Sam could see the Crown of Fire, wild and immense and dominating, a storm waiting to be unleashed upon the world. But it was stopped, heeled and held back, by its wielder. Shadows writhed and swelled—not because of a battle of wills, but because the Ghost King was _furious,_ and the only reason everything in a mile radius wasn’t rubble was because of the Ghost King’s thin control over the power of the Crown.

Sam blinked, and it was gone.

Jazz, stiff and wary, watched Phantom. Then, she glanced uncertainly at Sam. “We don’t know for sure that it’s you and your mom’s hair.”

“Do you think your mom would be able to confirm?” Sam asked. Her neck prickled.

“We have the equipment for it, yeah.”

“Jazz. I need to know if this is my mom’s hair.”

“I’ll go call my mom, I think she and my dad went to the store.” Jazz laid her hand on Sam’s shoulder. Her face was full of compassion. “We’ll figure this out,” she promised.

Sam gave her a strained smile. “Thanks, Jazz.”

Jazz nodded, glanced once at Phantom, sighed, then went to get her phone from her room.

Sam turned to Phantom. “Are you sure Wulf is protecting my parents?” she asked him, her voice strained.

Phantom took a deep breath. “Wulf is my most loyal guard, and he would die before failing to protect his charges,” he said slowly. “His senses are the best.”

Sam set down the envelope and its content carefully on the kitchen table. Phantom glared at it as if it had personally attacked him.

This felt too close, too personal. This letter had been pointed and deliberate. An image of the retirement home, crumbling to nothing, flashed behind her eyes.

“You know what this means,” Sam whispered. “It means that Plasmius is ready to attack my parents.” Sam curled her hands into fists. “We have to do _something,_ Phantom. I can’t sit around and wait for my parents to get killed. Plasmius won’t give any warning before it’s too late.”

Phantom sighed. “You’re right.”

Sam drummed her fingers on the table. “Didn’t Jazz say that Vlad was in DC for some charity event or something?”

“Until the end of the week, yeah.” He narrowed his eyes. “You can’t be thinking…”

“This is as good a time as any to scope out his place, see if we can figure out what he’s planning and what this so-called ‘secret weapon’ is, if it exists.” Sam leaned forward in excitement. “I know where his mansion is, I’ve been there before. We could stop it all now!”

Phantom’s eyebrows furrowed in thought. Then, he sighed. “We can go if you promise me that you’ll get out of there immediately if it looks like there’s trouble. You’re definitely stronger now, but there’s still a lot that you haven’t mastered yet.”

Sam shrugged. “Sounds fair enough to me. When do we leave?”

“Tonight.”

* * *

“This is ridiculous,” Phantom murmured to Sam. They were both invisible in the hall of the Masters’ mansion, standing in front of a rather obnoxious oil painting of Vlad Masters.

“I know,” she muttered back in disgust. “At least be a unique billionaire and _not_ do the whole self-portrait bullshit. Or give the money you’d spend on the portrait and give it to charity.”

The Masters’ mansion hadn’t changed much since the last time Sam had been. High ceilings with ornately carved wooden creatures, and gaudy jewelry and ornaments displayed on every wall and horizontal surface. Seeing a vase from the 14th century next to a Greenbay Packers football jersey made Sam want to gag.

Phantom snorted. Then he went back to business. “We already checked the top two floors and the ground floor. You said that was it?”

“At least what I saw when I was here.” Sam frowned. “I really thought that there would be some sign of all his plans for world domination.” She would be absolutely furious if this trip had all been for nothing, especially since she would have to face the Fentons’ anger at leaving with no warning with nothing to show for it. Jazz had abruptly left in the late afternoon to drop off a book for a friend, and Sam had figured it was better to beg forgiveness than ask permission about going to snoop in Vlad’s mansion. She had disabled the ghost shield to let Phantom leave, and then he had teleported them to the mansion after Sam told him where it was. Then, once Phantom had declared the entire building empty of ghosts, they had gone through the front door invisibly.

“I had thought that Plasmius would have better taste,” Phantom mockingly extended the train of a garishly red cape with red and white fur lining draped across a doll.

Sam rolled her eyes at him. “You’re one to talk, Mr. Ghost King. I’ve seen your castle.”

He shot her a mocking glare. “Hey, in my defense, I let Dora have most of a say in what the castle looks like. She misses her childhood castle sometimes.” He waved a hand at their surroundings. “Something tells me that Plasmius had a say in every single part of this place. Also, Dora has taste. Plasmius does not.”

“Fair enough,” Sam conceded. Then she smirked. “Honestly, I had imagined your quarters to be something like this.”

Phantom shot her a look. “I feel like I should be insulted by that.”

Sam waved a hand at him. “Your room is surprisingly tasteful, given how dramatic you can be sometimes.” Her voice dropped to imitate him. “‘I am the Ghost King, and you will bow before me, or I will break you into a million pieces.’”

Phantom flicked her ear in retaliation. Sam sniggered, then swatted his hand away. “You’re surprisingly laid back, considering we didn’t find shit about Vlad.”

“I am because I’m not convinced we’ve looked everywhere.” At Sam’s confused look, he elaborated, “Houses can easily have hidden depths.”

He critically eyed the carpet.

Phantom went first, phasing through the floor. Sam felt a chill as she summoned intangibility, but felt nothing as she sank through the floor.

Sure enough, several feet of dirt and steel separated the ground floor from a pristine lab. Its ghostly purpose could be easily determined from the vials of ectoplasm lined in a rack. There was no person or ghost in sight.

“Huh.” Sam spun around, taking it all in. “Do a lot of people have hidden labs?”

Phantom snorted. “What, you don’t have one?”

“My family has been trying to decide whether to put it next to the bowling alley or the movie theater,” Sam said sarcastically.

The two of them were too cautious to become visible. The fact that she was wearing his Crown’s counterpart was the only reason she could make out his faint outline as he moved through the lab.

“There’s no sign of him or what he’s working on here,” he noted. “I don’t like that he has his own ghost portal.”

Sam eyed the portal in question. “Could we destroy it?” she suggested. “Or make it unusable?”

A new, sinister voice broke in cheerfully. “I would strongly advise against that.”

A whirring came from behind Phantom. There was a whine and a clank as a large, robotic thing walked out of the shadows. It glowed faintly with a green aura. The head was transparent glass, and Vlad Masters grinned at them through it. 

“ _King_ Phantom,” Plasmius said mockingly. “I’ve been waiting. And you brought Ms. Manson! I’m so pleased.”

Not only had Plasmius wanted Phantom to show up, he’d prepared for it. _Fuck._ Sam mentally kicked herself for letting them fall into this trap.

A dark, bloodthirsty aura exploded from Phantom. “Plasmius,” Phantom said lowly. “You’re going to pay for what you’ve done.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Plasmius said cheerfully. He moved several steps forward into the direct lights of the lab. “I think the Ghost Throne is ripe for the taking, and you and your little obsession are going to be destroyed soon.”

Phantom snarled at that and lunged for Plasmius. Plasmius’ metal suit glowed brighter. Upon Phantom’s first contact with the aura, electricity sparked. It arced through Phantom, and the Ghost King _yelled_ from surprise and pain.

Sam moved on autopilot, rushing towards them. To do what, she didn't know. But Plasmius saw her coming. Something shot out of his unoccupied hand, and Sam yelped as a metal restraint pinned her to the nearby wall at her arm.

The green aura faded slightly and Phantom collapsed in front of the halfa, panting.

Plasmius’ grin was nothing but triumphant. “Do you like my new toy?” he jeered at Phantom. “I’ve spent years of my fortune searching for undiscovered treasures relating to ghosts. I came across the most curious substance in space, of all places. Ectoranium, an almost mythical element, deters and negates any ghost that comes into contact with it. Any common ghost who comes into contact with a gram of the substance will cease to exist within fifteen minutes.”

Plasmius gestured at his suit. “It took years to extract enough of the element from outer space and more years after that to develop the prototype suit. But, sixteen years later…and I possess the power to kill you and take what’s mine.”

They had been wrong to dismiss Aragorn’s warning of Plasmius’ secret weapon. And they were about to pay the price. Plasmius raised a glowing hand, and it shot a bolt of green energy. It struck Phantom directly in the chest. And Phantom _screamed._

The sound cut deep into Sam, down to the bone. The scene before her was incomprehensible to her; Phantom was the most powerful being in existence. He was the Ghost King. She’d never imagined she would ever hear him scream in pain. Not like this.

The way the screams changed their pitch—to something more broken and desperate—had her snapping out of it.

“Stop!” she shrieked. She yanked at her arm, but the clamp refused to budge.

Plasmius startled and paused his assault. Phantom shivered as Plasmius looked over him to Sam.

“Ms. Manson, I’d almost forgotten you were there,” Plasmius said almost cordially. 

“Sam, run,” Phantom groaned. He struggled to sit up on weak arms.

“Now, now, my King,” Plasmius chastised Phantom. “Ms. Manson is my guest. It would be rude for her to leave without saying goodbye.” The halfa turned to Sam. “It was rather ingenious for you to hide under a ghost shield for protection. I’m glad you enjoyed the letter I sent you. If you two hadn’t ventured out to find me, I’d have sought out your parents in earnest.”

That had Sam pausing. “If you haven’t gone after them, when did you take our hair?” Sam demanded.

Plasmius grinned. “I visited your home a couple weeks ago, when your name appeared on the news. Your father really snores in his sleep, doesn’t he?”

The intimate detail—and the reminder that she was facing her grandmother’s murderer—had her fingers twitching to blast him. The only thing that stopped her was Plasmius hadn’t sensed she was wearing the Ring, and Phantom was still laying on the ground.

“Why target me?” she asked, her voice wavering and hating it. “Why target my grandmother? If you were already building this Ectoranium suit, you didn’t need to come after me. _You didn’t have to murder my grandmother in her home._ ”

The emotion in Sam’s voice didn’t affect Plasmius. He didn’t even blink. “The suit was still in its final development stages when I learned that you were Phantom’s obsession. The suit also needed testing. Targeting you was a precaution. I didn’t bother going after your other loved ones when it became operational. It only needed testing, and the perfect test subjects showed up on my doorstep two days ago.”

A chill went down Sam’s spine. Spectra and Bertrand. Sam was certain of it. It explained why Spectra had broken Phantom’s orders and missed her check-in yesterday.

She shoved it all down. She needed to focus. Phantom needed her. She couldn’t afford to lose her head and get another person she cared about killed. 

“Even if you kill us,” Sam told Plasmius, “the Fentons know who you are and what you’re planning. They’ll tell everyone. They’ll stop you.”

That made Plasmius falter. “Maddie knows?” The frenetic edge to his voice took Sam aback. “How much does Maddie know?”

This hadn’t been the direction she’d thought her distraction would go. But if she could get his mind off Phantom for two minutes, she could grab Phantom and make a run for it. “She knows everything,” she said plainly. “How you’re a half-ghost, and how you tried to become part of Phantom’s inner circle before being cast out. And that you killed my grandmother and are trying to take over the human world.”

At that, Plasmius exploded, “Fuck!” He twisted and punched a nearby wall. Sam jumped at the sudden noise.

Plasmius withdrew his hand from the crater. Sam only caught his mutterings halfway through. “—wasn’t supposed to happen like this, this wasn’t in the plan.” Completely lost in thought, the halfa began to pace. “What needs to change? Does anything need to change? Once she realizes who I really am and what I’m offering her, she’ll fall in love with me and join me. She’ll leave that buffoon, finally—“

An idea struck Sam of who Plasmius was talking about, and the sheer absurdity of it had her blurting out, “Are you talking about _Maddie Fenton?_ ”

Plasmius whipped his head to look at her, and Sam sucked in a breath at the look in his eye. They were wide and unblinking and the crazed light in them made him look...inhuman. “Maddie,” he sighed her name reverently. “The love of my life. After my…accident, our paths were led astray, and she was seduced by the wrong man. An oafish idiot that doesn’t deserve her.”

Sam stared at Plasmius, unable to believe what she was hearing. “And…you think that you do?”

“We were meant to be together!” Plasmius snarled at her. His fists clenched and his suit whined as it powered up. “After I become King, she’ll realize the mistake she made, and how we’re meant to be together. She’ll become my Queen and we’ll rule Plasmania together!”

_Obsession,_ Sam realized with horror. She hadn’t even considered it, thinking of Plasmius only in his human form in her mind’s eye. She should have thought of what it actually meant to be half ghost. She guessed that no matter how much ghost you had in you, an obsession always formed. And sure, a ghost could have its relationship with its obsession in many different forms. A human obsession could be a best friend, a family member, a lover.

But this…what Plasmius had? This was all levels of sick and delusional. If you took one glance at Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, you could tell they were happily—almost disgustingly—in love. Anyone who wanted to tear them apart, anyone who thought that Mrs. Fenton was mistaken or tricked into being with Mr. Fenton and that she’d “come to her senses,” was completely delusional.

In a normal situation, Sam would’ve pummeled someone who’d sprouted this kind of shit. Even in this situation, she had the strong urge to punch the halfa in the face. But it would do her no good. She internally gnashed her teeth as she pointed out, "That can only happen if you were able to merge the Ghost Zone and human world together. Which many would say is impossible to do.”

At that, Plasmius’ confident swagger returned. He smiled with that maniacal gleam, his teeth perfectly straight and white. “Things are in motion,” he said vaguely. “Within a matter of days, things will get put—“

Sam moved. She turned intangible for a split second, enough to free her arm. The Ring buoyed her to shoot to Phantom like a rocket. The power within her gave her the strength to lift him. She didn’t pause, aiming for the roof and turning them both intangible. 

It all went wrong when they connected with the ceiling.

The pain was searing, burning across every nerve. The Ring’s energy went berserk, piercing into her every being. Somewhere in the distance, she heard Phantom’s yell of pain along with hers.

They both hit the ground hard. Sam’s fingers twitched uncontrollably from aftershocks.

A shadow fell over Sam. Plasmius clapped slowly, mockingly. “Well, well, well…you should’ve told me, Ms. Manson, that I was speaking to my Queen. I would’ve bowed sooner, but my senses aren’t what they used to be. Ectoranium muddles normal ghost senses. Good thing I lined an Ectoranium-powered shield around this lab and activated it when you came in.”

Another bang and Sam choked as all the air left her lungs. Plasmius had fired a clamp that pinned her torso to the floor. Only this one glowed with a sickly green energy. Sam immediately knew that she wouldn't be able to phase through this one. 

“Just a moment, my dear,” Plasmius said cheerfully. “I had promised myself a very specific reunion with our King here, and I hate to make myself wait after a decade of waiting.”

With that, Plasmius drew a knife. The handle was black, but the blade itself was pure green. It glowed with its own light.

Sam’s blood ran cold. _Oh fuck no_. _This can’t be happening._

Plasmius strolled to Phantom’s prone form. With a careless kick, and Phantom sprawled, his back slamming against the floor. His arm flopped senselessly against the floor. Another glowing clamp pinned him to the floor. Phantom didn't stir.

Plasmius crouched over Phantom. 

_This can't be happening this can't be happening—_

Plasmius’ suit blocked Sam from being able to see the knife or his hands. It meant that Sam could only see Phantom's face. 

It took a few, horrible seconds before Phantom jerked into consciousness. There was a sizzling sound, and then Phantom yelled.

Tears ran down Sam's cheeks. The stench of blood and iron and something burning made Sam want to puke. 

_Stop. You have to stop. Please, you're killing him._

She strained against the clamp around her waist. She called upon her powers, trying to phase out or break out of its grip. Whenever she did, the Ectoranium reacted, and the searing pain wouldn't stop until she stopped fighting.

Blinking tears out of her vision, Sam's focus returned to Phantom and Plasmius. Plasmius hadn't stopped, and a green pool of ectoplasm lapped at Plasmius’ knees. Phantom’s screaming continued, intermixed with Plasmius brightly chatting about random nonsense.

“It wasn’t until the 1980s that scientists really explored the anatomy of a ghost,” Plasmius spoke conversationally. “Ectoplasm is particularly interesting. It acts both like blood and is also the major makeup of every part of a ghost.” Throughout it all, Sam struggled and fought against the restraints. It was futile. So Sam used the other weapon she had: her voice. She talked and yelled and cajoled and screamed. But the fucking madman continued to chatter obliviously. “It’s almost as if you become entirely made out of blood.”

Phantom twisted, his neck a sickenly sharp angle in an attempt to avoid the blade.

And then he opened his eyes and met hers.

The world narrowed down until it was just the two of them. Plasmius’ voice faded into an unintelligible jumble. For the first time, the cocky Ghost King mask was stripped away. In its place was pain and terror. A person forced down to its base instincts and terrified to know there was no way out.

But then, something changed. His expression changed from the look of a cornered animal to one that was looking at something he hadn’t realized was there. He looked into her eyes and _saw_ her. Her fingers, once clawing at the clamp at her waist, slackened.

He searched her expression for something. Then, a resigned expression settled on his face. 

It was peaceful in a way that sent fearful prickles across her arms. What was that, what did that mean? “ _Phantom—_ ”

Plasmius wrenched the connection away from them with a wild punch to Phantom’s cheek. “ _You look at me when I’m talking to you_ ,” he hissed.

Calmly, Phantom spat bright green ectoplasm in Plasmius’ face.

There was a horrible moment of stillness.

Then, Plasmius raised his hand back, the glove sparking and spitting green, then brought it down in a wide arc.

The aftershock of the hit shuddered through the floor. Electricity arced through Phantom’s body. Phantom’s mouth opened in a silent scream.

When it was over, his body slumped, and his head rolled so that Sam could only see the back of his head.

Phantom fell silent.

“ _Phantom?_ ” Her voice broke. Please no. “Please wake up,” Sam begged him.

“Don't worry, dear, he just passed out from the pain and the loss of ectoplasm,” Plasmius blithely told her. He had finally risen from his crouch over Phantom. Sam’s stomach rolled at the full sight of what had been done to him. _There was so much ectoplasm._

“Oops, looks like I broke my own restraints on him.” Plasmius tutted, but didn’t appear concerned. It was clear, after all, that Phantom wasn’t going anywhere. He had finally finished with Phantom for the moment, and he strolled back to stand over Sam. He took in the tear tracks on Sam’s cheeks. “My, my,” Plasmius mused. “It seems like someone got a little attached to the Ghost King.”

“Fuck you,” Sam spat at him. She'd thought that she couldn’t hate Plasmius more a day ago; now, she’d give anything to kill him right then. “A few weeks ago, I thought there wasn’t anything worse than the Ghost King and how he killed people left and right. But now I know that you’re the worst monster of all, and I can’t wait to watch you burn.”

“Oh, Ms. Manson,” he said patronizingly. “It appears you don’t truly understand the situation you’re in. You see, I’ve already won.” He flung his hands out. “I control the Ghost Zone. As we speak, world leaders are signing their power over to me. Within a matter of days, I’ll be some ruler of everything, ghost and human alike. And after I kill Phantom, there’ll be no one left to stop me.”

Sam moved to fire ecto-energy, but Plasmius was already slamming his foot down on her arm. Sam gasped in pain.

“It’s a shame,” Plasmius mused. “I know Maddie adored you like a second daughter. You could have joined us, become our little princess if you hadn’t chosen him.”

Sam glared at him in hatred. “Fuck you,” she spat at him. “I’m going to destroy you for what you’ve done. Starting with my grandmother.”

Plasmius fired up his blaster and smiled at her. It almost looked like he was trying to be sympathetic. “Unfortunately, my dear, it appears as if you’re going to see your grandmother before me.”

Sam braced herself. She waited for the flash of green. 

He fired.

Black covered her vision. There was no sound other than a _bam._

A heavy weight slammed on top of her.

It took a second for Sam to register what had happened.

Then it came crashing down on her.

Sam gasped in horror as Phantom slumped on top of her. “ _No!_ No no no no. Phantom?” Her hands scrabbled at his back, and it came back sticky. Ectoplasm. Her voice rose. _“Phantom!”_

Plasmius tsked. “I wanted to get to you later,” he scolded Phantom. He kicked Phantom off her like a rag doll. Sam’s stomach rolled at seeing Phantom’s back look like it had been dissolved with acid. He didn’t move.

“I would’ve let him die without any more suffering if he’d waited his turn. Ah well.” Sam heard behind her the whine of the blasters powering up again.

He was going to torture Phantom more. Was going to enjoy it as he made Phantom scream. And then after he finished Phantom and took the Crown for himself, he was going to kill her.

Something gave from within her.

She reached out. Not physically. She found the barrier separating herself from Phantom. She tore through it like paper. She grasped the energy within Phantom—every last drop of it—and accepted it into herself. Welcomed it, even.

Even having experienced it before, it still took her like a tsunami. It threatened to drown her.

_No._ I’m _your Queen. You don’t control me._

She lashed out, and the power did her bidding. The clamp across her torso melted into nothing. It knocked Plasmius back, shattering the head plate of the glass and boiling the top layer of the armor. 

He wasn’t her priority, however. Within a split second, she was at Phantom’s side. She hauled Phantom into her arms. She pictured where she wanted to go, and then the world faded away.

* * *

They reappeared in the Fentons’ living room with a bang.

Mrs. Fenton, Mr. Fenton, and Jazz gaped at them. “How—“ Jazz started.

“The ghost shield is still on,” Mr. Fenton said in befuddlement. “How—“

Sam was too frantic to even think about that. “Phantom’s hurt, I-I think he’s dying. Mrs. Fenton.”

Mrs. Fenton ran over and took in Phantom. She hissed air through her teeth. “Sam, I’ve never treated ghosts before, I’ve only ever hunted them—“

“You’re the smartest person I know, I know you can figure it out!” Sam could feel him fading, and Sam was frantic. _“Please,_ Mrs. Fenton.”

There was a commotion of noise, but all Sam could hear was the dripping of ectoplasm on the carpet. The world had faded, and all Sam saw was the bright green glow of ectoplasm gushing from the motionless body Sam held. Ectoplasm soaked her hands, and dripped from her fingertips. There was so much ectoplasm.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm sorry?


	13. where to begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I'm happy to hear that you all mostly enjoyed the last chapter despite *coughs* you know, what happened. But look! A new chapter!

Sam paced back and forth as if her life depended on it.

Beyond that door, in the basement, Mrs. Fenton was working to save Phantom from the torture and injuries he'd taken from Plasmius. They'd been down there for hours, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton. Mrs. Fenton had refused Jazz and Sam's help, saying she needed an unbiased person with an in-depth knowledge of ghost biology. Sam and Jazz didn't make the cut. Mrs. Fenton closed the door on Sam's protest.

No one had come out since then. Sam couldn't sit still, pacing back and forth, freezing on the spot whenever she thought she heard someone coming up the steps. Meanwhile, Jazz had tried to convince Sam to clean up and to have Jazz look her over. Sam had refused three times before Jazz had taken drastic measures and physically forced Sam to shower and change. Sam had grumbled the entire time, muttering to herself that she’d endured worse grossness in the midst of an Amity Park summer heat wave. The complaints had fallen on deaf ears.

The time alone had just given Sam more time to stew and think about all the things that had gone wrong.

They should have never gone to Plasmius’ mansion. Not only had it been colossally stupid for them to risk their lives like that, it also significantly lowered the chances of them defeating Vlad, now that Phantom was hurt. After he had taken that shot of Ectoranium.

Sam drove her hands through her hair, then kept her hands linked together against the back of her head. It was the only way to stop her hands from shaking.

Why had Phantom taken that shot? The blast had been powered by Ectoranium; he knew the damage and risk he would take if he moved between her and Plasmius. And the damage from Plasmius’ suit would affect him so much worse than her, a human. Now, the mighty and powerful Ghost King was on the brink of death. True death. The thought stole all the air in Sam’s lungs.

If Phantom died, then the world as they knew it would be over. Plasmius would raze the Ghost Zone and remake it in his image, then do the same for the human world. It was terrifying to realize that the only person who would have the slightest chance at stopping Plasmius was her, Sam Manson, the so-called “Ghost Queen” for all of what felt like five minutes. The human who had only handled the full power of the Ghost Throne twice: once with the Ghost King’s supervision and the second for a flaming hot minute when she had thought that she and Phantom were going to die. It had taken every scrap of will to split the power back to their original hosts and keep it there. The idea of carrying the full burden of the Ghost Throne power all alone, and trying to defeat Plasmius made her insides turn cold.

She needed him here to save the world.

But on a more personal, selfish level, she knew that she didn’t want him to die because something within her revolted and raged at the idea of Phantom dying.

Sam startled when the door to the basement opened. After being hyper-aware of the basement door for so long, she got lost in her head when someone finally did show up.

Mr. Fenton’s head poked out of the doorway. His eyes were tired. Sam’s heart leapt into her throat.

“He’s alright,” he told her plainly, making Sam’s knees turn to jelly in relief, “or he’s stable for now, at least.”

“How bad was it?” Sam’s voice was raspy from disuse.

Mr. Fenton didn’t sugarcoat it for her. “Very bad. We were close to losing him multiple times. But the bastard somehow held on.”

Mr. Fenton led Sam downstairs. They had hastily set up a makeshift emergency room in the basement, with a monitor measuring vitals and Phantom motionless in a bed. Mrs. Fenton was studying a chart, the bags around her eyes matching her husband’s.

Sam drew closer to Phantom. He was pale, but that was nothing really new. What was disconcerting was how he just...lay there. She’d never seen him rest. And he felt disquietingly...muted. She was used to a constant, undeniable presence from him, like the gravitational pull of the sun. Standing close to him, she felt none of that pull. And it freaked her out.

“It could’ve been a lot worse,” Mrs. Fenton broke through Sam’s assessment.

Sam swallowed and wrapped her arms around herself. “It was that bad?”

“The Ectoranium lingered in him, and any time it stayed in his system, it did four times the damage. He was close to dissolving completely. We were lucky to keep his core uncorrupted, and purge the rest of his form of the Ectoranium. The stab wounds were deep. Normally, stab wounds don’t affect or damage the surrounding tissues, but that all flew out the window when Ectoranium got involved. I’m assuming the blade had Ectoranium in some form on it.”

“As far as I could tell, the entire blade had been made out of Ectoranium.”

Mrs. Fenton shook her head in disbelief. “It’s a miracle his core remained intact, or he would have been a goner. Even now, I’m incredibly impressed that he survived; those injuries on any lesser ghost would’ve killed him in minutes. It’s also unbelievable that Plasmius managed to get a hold of so much Ectoranium, let alone keep it in such proximity to him in a suit. A week ago, Ectoranium had only existed in theory.”

“Plasmius said it took sixteen years for him to get enough Ectoranium.”

Mrs. Fenton suddenly looked old. “Sixteen years,” she whispered, “and we didn’t have any idea.” Mr. Fenton wrapped a comforting arm around his wife, looking grim.

Sam stared some more at Phantom. “He’ll survive though?”

“It’ll take a while, but he should be in the clear. We’ll be monitoring him closely over the next couple of hours in case any complications come up.”

Sam said quietly, “Thank you, Mrs. Fenton.”

Mrs. Fenton patted her on the back. “I get it. And I’m happy to help. But if Vlad was able to do this kind of damage on the most powerful ghost out there…” The ghost hunter’s expression clouded. “We have to figure out what to do.”

Speaking of which… “I think you should know,” Sam said hesitatingly, “that when we were with Plasmius, Vlad, whatever you want to call him, he made it very clear that...you were. Um. His obsession.”

Mrs. Fenton’s clipboard clattered to the floor. Her face was slack. She was struck speechless, and Mr. Fenton looked like he was just hit by a car. Sam sympathized with both of them. Clockwork had hinted that Sam was Phantom’s ancra and, ironically, the time it took to confirm Sam’s suspicions had given her more time to let it sink in. Sam had just dropped a bombshell on Mr. and Mrs. Fenton.

Mrs. Fenton finally found her voice. “But… How? Why?”

Sam’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “It sounded like, before he became half-ghost, he was in love with you. After the accident, that love got twisted and became a sick version of an obsession.”

Mrs. Fenton was still lost. “But...we’ve been friends for years. _Decades._ He’s never shown any signs that he had stronger feelings.”

Sam remembered the crazed look in Plasmius’ eyes, the resolute way he claimed that Mrs. Fenton would love him eventually. “He’s a complete psychopath,” Sam said flatly. “Everything that came out of his mouth was a lie, and the guy very clearly didn’t get the lesson that his own feelings and opinions aren’t a universal truth.”

“Do you think,” Mr. Fenton asked quietly, “that the ghost part in him forced him to become...twisted like this?”

Sam’s eyes dropped to Phantom, who remained still and whose presence barely fluttered across her senses. In her mind, the answer was clear. “No. I don’t think that was what happened.”

* * *

Phantom awoke with a groan.

Sam looked up from her book. She had parked herself in a chair next to Phantom’s bedside. Mr. and Mrs. Fenton had gone upstairs to clean up and rest, but Sam knew that the couple would be spending time thinking about what Sam had told them. It was a lot to process, their worldview of their best friend shifting entirely on its axis.

Sam still had a lot to process.

Sam closed the book she’d snatched from the living room as she saw Phantom’s eyes fluttering open. He groaned again and his hand drifted to his bandaged chest. He moved to sit up, but Sam pushed him back down. He was disconcertingly solid to Sam, fully adhering to gravity and solid matter.

“Stay still,” Sam told him. “Mrs. Fenton says you’re still raw and need more time to heal. That, and you might pop your stitches.”

“Wha…” Phantom’s voice was slurred. “What happened?”

Sam crossed her arms. “You almost died,” she said flatly. “Mrs. Fenton was barely able to get all the Ectoranium out of your system and stitch you up.”

“Plasmius…” The thought struck him suddenly; he shot upwards to search the room, but he stopped halfway up and spasmed, making a strangled noise of pain.

Sam pushed him back down again, scowling at him in irritation and worry. “I told you to stay still,” she snapped at him.

Phantom barely registered her words. “What happened with Plasmius? How did we get here?”

Sam huffed. “I don’t know where Plasmius is, we’re completely in the dark now that Spectra and Bertrand were caught. In terms of how we escaped…” In a flash of dark humor, she sarcastically flashed some jazz hands. “I finally figured out how to teleport. Yay me.”

Phantom made a noise of disbelief. “He’d sealed us in a bubble of Ectoranium-powered energy so thick it was a fortress. You managed to use your ghost powers and get us through the Ectoranium?”

“I also managed to destroy the Ectoranium clamp around me too.” Sam shrugged. “Maybe taking on your powers helped too? I got us through the Fenton ghost shield too.”

That really got his attention. “Wait.. _what?”_

Sam couldn’t answer how she did it, no matter what questions he asked. She had just been desperate, scared for Phantom and herself, and needed to get _out._ There was nothing else to say.

“How are you feeling?” she asked him.

Phantom looked like he wanted to go back to the impossible feats she’d done to escape. “What? Oh. I’m fine.”

“Uh huh,” Sam said doubtfully.

“Could...Mrs. Fenton,” the name sounded awkward on his tongue, “construct a device to track a half-ghost?”

Sam blinked. “I mean, they’ve definitely invented whackier and more specific stuff.”

“Good. Then we’ll be able to move quickly. Plasmius won’t expect me to attack again so soon.”

Sam swore she’d misheard him. “Wait...excuse me? You’re going to attack him?”

“He won’t have the element of surprise anymore.”

“Are you, you’re serious?” Sam had the strongest urge to strangle him. “You almost died, and you’re going to charge back in there like a fucking idiot and get killed for real?”

“I have no choice,” he snapped back. His jaw was tight with tension. “If I can’t handle Plasmius, then no ghost will be able to. With nothing in the way for him, he’ll obliterate the Ghost Zone. There’s also the possibility that he still has Spectra and Bertrand, and I owe it to them to free them if I can.”

“Spectra and Bertrand won’t be any better off if you go and get yourself killed!”

“I won’t get killed,” Phantom snarled. “I am fully aware of what Plasmius is capable of. I won’t let him kill me.”

Sam’s voice shook with barely contained rage. “You. You still don’t fucking get it, do you?”

She could see him about to dismiss her question, or maybe argue with her. Her anger bubbled over, and she heard something shatter behind her. She leaned over him, gripping his shoulders and uncaring of how tight the pressure was. The Ring eagerly lapped up her fury.

“You,” she growled. “Almost. Died.”

He stilled in the face of her ferocity. He said roughly, “And that wouldn’t have changed anything. The Observants would’ve found a new King to defeat Plasmius, and then you would’ve been free. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Don’t make assumptions that that’s what I want, you asshole! It wouldn’t have been fine if you’d died. If you’d died, I’d—” Her words caught in her throat, choking her. Her eyes began burning as tears threatened to escape.

Phantom looked like he was carved from stone. “You’d what?”

Sam heaved in a breath. “I-I don’t know,” she whispered.

And then they were kissing.

In the distant part of her mind, she knew that she shouldn’t be doing this. She should be running upstairs and calling for Mrs. Fenton to check on him. He had only been on the edge of dying a few hours ago. It was like Sam couldn’t get enough. Her lips slid across his and her mind went blissfully blank for the first time in hours. Phantom matched her in intensity, holding her face with both hands. He stole her breath, until all she could do was hold onto his wrists like her life depended on it and just sink into him.

She broke away, gasping. Face absolutely flaming red, all she could do was take in Phantom’s stunned expression.

_You idiot,_ a voice in Sam’s head whispered to her. _He’s clearly been putting distance between the two of you since you got the Ring. And now he almost died for you and you’re here kissing him?_

“Um,” was all Sam could really think to say. She had the sudden urge to flee, but, well, Sam Manson had never run away from something in her life, so she just swallowed and kept her eyes trained on the threads of the blanket that had been hastily thrown over the makeshift bed.

“What…” Phantom started.

“I-I shouldn’t have done that,” Sam stuttered. Her face flamed. She pulled away.

Phantom caught her by the waist. “Wait...why?”

“You’ve made it clear that you’re only interested in...the physical aspects between us,” Sam muttered. She so badly wished she could melt into nothing.

There was a pause. Then, “That’s not true.” The words were a mumble, and holy shit, Phantom was _blushing._

Sam knew her mouth was agape, but couldn’t think of closing it. “B-But you can’t stand being near me!”

Phantom shot her a look. “I was avoiding you because I was trying to see if I actually had formed an obsession with you. At the beginning, at least. Once I was sure, I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me beyond—” He gestured between them. “This.”

Sam spluttered. “So wait, _you_ were avoiding _me_ in case I didn’t want anything to do with you?” 

He exhaled slowly. “You know what I thought when I saw Plasmius was about to kill you? The only thought that I had when he was about to shoot you was: ‘No. Not her.’”

“I—” She could feel herself flushing with embarrassment.

“I thought an obsession was just...a fixation.” He laid his head back on the pillow, his unfocused gaze on the ceiling. “At least, that’s what other ghosts told me. How they described it. Their eyes would always wander back to their ancra. Their thoughts would stray. No matter how long or how far apart the two were, the ghost would always feel the pull back.

“And at first with you, that’s what it was. My mind always returned to you somehow. There was this...restlessness whenever I wasn’t with you. But eventually, it became more like I’d look at you and my chest would tighten. I would burn. The thought of you getting hurt or,” he winced, “dying makes me...” He didn’t finish that sentence.

Sam shuddered at the way his body turned to stone. His eyes swirled with green and red. “But it’s not just that,” he ground out. “It’s not just that I don’t want you hurt because I would unravel if it happened. It’s because you’re you and I think the world would be a lot shittier if you weren’t in it.”

Color filled his cheeks, and even in the midst of this earth-shattering revelation, Sam couldn’t help but internally combust at the sight of Phantom blushing. “Basically,” he said quickly, ignorant of her inner struggle, “what I’m trying to say is that you've become more than my obsession to me. And I know that doesn’t mean shit after everything that’s happened. I was an asshole to you before, and even after I stopped, I put you and your family’s lives in danger and you’ve been forced into a role you didn’t want because of me. I knew immediately that you wanted nothing to do with me like that. You already had to deal with one possessive, murderous ghost; the last thing you want is one that happens to be a king.”

Sam’s heart hammered away in her chest. She took her time forming her next words. “At first,” Sam said slowly, “I hated everything about you and what you represented.” Phantom flinched. She continued, “Not only were you a ghost, one of the things that constantly threatened to control me to kill me. And you were their all-powered leader, the worst of them all. You lived up to your reputation when we first met too. 

“But then...I don’t know. You proved that the reputation you had wasn’t completely accurate.” Sam twisted her fingers together. “You accepted the Crown and ruled to make sure ghosts were safe; you didn’t care about anything else. And...you listened to me and talked to me. I don’t think anyone has really done that before for me, except my-my grandma.” Sam took a shaky breath. “You’re the first person that’s wholly, truly liked me for me,” she whispered. “Which is why, damn the reasons why I shouldn’t or the consequences, I like you too.”

His eyes were blazing as if she had told him she had saved the sun from exploding. “Are you sure?” Phantom said roughly. “Please be sure.”

“I’m sure,” she said, and then Phantom surged. They kissed again and again, and soon Phantom was pulling her into his lap. Sam gasped and tried shifting her weight away. “Your injuries!”

“I’m fine, you won’t hurt me.” Phantom’s eyes were dark and he clearly wasn’t thinking about his wounds. The dark intent had Sam shiver and bite her lip.

Sam raised his arms gently, encircling his wrists with her hands and pinning them to the bed. “If you’re good,” Sam murmured into his lips, “then I’ll give you what you want. But you have _to hold.”_

Phantom panted, eyes hazy at her words. But he relinquished the control easily, letting her position him exactly where she wanted. “What happens if I’m good?”

Sam smirked, then slithered down his body. She wasted no time in taking her tongue and flattening it against the underside of his cock, wetting the tip thoroughly. The muscles in her thighs clenched hearing Phantom moan the loudest she’d ever heard. He muttered a barely coherent “fuck” between laboring breaths. That was all the encouragement she needed; she opened her mouth and found not much discomfort from taking him down her throat and holding him there.

Phantom went _wild,_ his mouth open open in a gasp and his eyes blazing green. And then his hands were in her hair, running his fingers over the crown of her head, flexing and relaxing the digits reflexively.

She rose and released her hold on him immediately. Saliva clung to her lips and she licked it away with a swipe of her tongue. Phantom’s eyes darkened even further as they tracked the movement.

“I told you that I would only give you what you want if you held still,” Sam reminded him. Heat flooded through her at the image presented before her: Phantom, his chest bare and bandaged. Her hair was tousled and his eyes were dark and he looked _sinfully_ hot. But what had little shockwaves of need straight to her sex was the feeling of control. Of deciding when and where and how one of the most powerful creatures became consumed with pleasure.

Without words, Phantom raised his arms, keeping them locked in place by holding the bedposts. The motion must have stretched at his wounds and the stitches, but there was not a hint of pain lining his face. Sam traced her eyes from his hands down over his bare chest to the V of his hips and the straining jut of his cock, and she could feel her slickness dripping down the side of her thigh.

Sam couldn’t stop herself from taking him back into her mouth. She hollowed her cheeks, her tongue lazily exploring the slopes and veins of his cock. She felt Phantom’s entire being stiffen, and the way he hissed out her name was liquid adrenaline in her veins.

With renewed vigor, she took him deep into her throat, both hands twisting around the base of his cock. She bobbed her head, but kept her tongue pressed against him.

Phantom spasmed under her, his release rushing through him like a tidal wave. Come spurted onto her tongue. and Sam slowly lapped at him, swallowing it quickly.

Phantom’s hands remained perfectly in place, having not moved an inch throughout the entire time.

Sam hummed and kissed his navel.

Once Phantom caught his breath, he rasped, “You’re dangerous, you know that, right?”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Sam told him. He tugged at her hand and she easily followed his guidance to lay at his side.

His hand ghosted down her thighs. Sam pressed them still.

Phantom actually pouted, and Sam found it incredibly comical. “You’re injured,” she reminded him.

“I can’t wait to return the favor,” was all he said. Sam shivered at the image. He opened his arms to her then and, first hesitating, slowly lowered herself to nestle into his side.

Silence fell between them, and Sam wondered if she should say something. He kissed her forehead, and Sam burrowed her face into his neck to hide her blush.

There were a lot of things that they should talk about. But right then, all Sam wanted to do was forget the world outside and feel safe within his arms.

* * *

_Sam,_ Phantom said, her name hollow and empty. _Why won’t you save me? Why are you letting me die?_

Plasmius, his smile wide and maniacal, shook his head mockingly. _Oh, dear King,_ he cooed. _Didn’t you know? She’s weak. A pathetic excuse for a Ghost Queen._

There was a flash of green as the knife arced and slid into Phantom’s throat. Ectoplasm splattered onto his chest and the floor as he gurgled. His eyes, once looking at her, lost focus. Plasmius let Phantom’s body fall with a thud to the floor.

As Phantom’s body lay at Plasmius’ feet, Plasmius fervently brushed his fingers across his knife, the blade coated in ectoplasm. There was a smile on his face. He looked up to her. Plasmius’ boots squelched as he stepped over Phantom’s form. Towards her.

Sam woke with a scream, jerking upright. Her skin was tight and blood roared in her ears. She needed to move. To fight or flee. She had to move, or she was dead. She was up and moving in a split second.

Something encircled her wrist, and Sam went wild, lashing out at whatever held her with all of her might. Electricity sizzled across her skin. Her attacker yelped in pain, and Sam took the opening, wrenching her hand free and making a run for it. 

She only made it halfway to the door when she was caught again. This time, the attacker wrapped her in a bear hug; Sam tried to twist away with a snarl, but this time the attacker was prepared; he held steady and didn’t flinch when she lashed out with a surge of electricity.

Through the white noise in her ears, Sam could only now hear the muffled sounds of the attacker trying to talk to her. 

“Sam, it’s okay,” he was saying. “You’re safe, your parents are safe. The Fentons and your friends are safe. Take a deep breath.”

Phantom. The person holding her was Phantom. She was in the Fentons’ basement, and Plasmius was not there.

The attacker may have disappeared, but her hackles wouldn’t relax. The biting fear of being hunted clawed at her insides.

Phantom. She had to make sure that he wasn’t hurt. That knife— “Your injuries,” the words spilled from Sam’s mouth, fast and frantic. “Where—You’re still hurt.” She tore at his clothes, needing to see.

Phantom took a step back at the sudden onslaught. Sam barely registered it, too busy trying to take the borrowed shirt off him but failing at the buttons. But then his steady hands replaced hers, and then his shirt was off. Sam desperately ran her hands along every part of his skin, bandaged and unbandaged. The wrappings showed no sign of bleed through and, though he was still considerably weaker, his aura felt stronger. He felt more solid under her fingertips.

“Hey,” Phantom said softly. He spoke as if he were talking to a spooked animal. He rubbed fingers against her back soothingly. “It’s okay.”

Sam exhaled shakily. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she scrubbed them away. Her body felt like a live wire. “It was a dream,” she told herself.

Phantom took her in with a conflicted expression. Then, steely determination ticked in his jaw, and then Sam was engulfed in a hug. Phantom was hugging her. The embrace felt tense and stiff; it was an awkward effort. But the attempt was genuine and he felt solid when she felt on the edge of falling apart. Sam shuddered, then melted against him. She buried her face in his neck and hot tears spilled over.

“Hey, hey. What happened?” His words are tight.

Words clogged her throat. She forced them out. “Plasmius.”

Sam felt Phantom’s pulse of power in response. He growled, “Where?”

For the first time since she’d met Phantom, she felt a wave of comfort at feeling his power. “In my dream. We were back in that lab and—”

A current of tension shifted restlessly within Phantom. “We’re not in the lab anymore. It’s all okay.”

“No, it’s not! Not when you were being tortured by Plasmius. Not when he started using that dagger.”

“He didn’t kill me, though.”

“He almost did,” Sam whispered. 

For that, Phantom had no answer, and Sam was tired. Tired of fighting only to be beaten back down. Tired of learning new tricks to defense herself, only to be attacked back into submission. The fear and anxiety of the Ghost King had long faded, but Plassmius had stepped into the role of the villain as easily as the step of a play.

Tears burned behind her eyelids. She really, truly didn’t want anyone else to die. She wasn’t sure if she could handle another person’s blood on her hands.

Sam murmured, “What are we going to do about Plasmius?”

Phantom sighed. “I’m going to have to stop him, one way or another.” _Or die trying,_ he refrained from saying.

Sam clenched her teeth. “There has to be another way,” she said ferociously. 

Phantom brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Sam couldn’t understand why he was smiling at this moment.

They stood there until Sam was swaying on her feet with exhaustion. Phantom guided her back to the bed.

When Sam dreamt, she saw her grandmother in her room, the walls surrounding her slowly crumbling into nothing. And no matter how much Sam screamed, the older woman just smiled and raised her hand in farewell.

  
  
"Well, your back has scabbed over and the smaller ones have started to fade," Mrs. Fenton reported as she examined Phantom's bare back. She circled around to the other side of the bed where Phantom was sitting. She peeled back the bandages to the knife wounds and blinked in astonishment. "These have healed incredibly well. I'd expected the stitches needing at least a couple more days, but they look like they could be taken out now."   
  
Phantom shot Sam a smug look. Sam was unimpressed; he was healing so much more quickly because he'd stayed in bed, not because he hadn’t needed the time to heal in the first place. 

As Mrs. Fenton worked on removing Phantom’s stitches, they figured it was time for a report on everything that had happened since their encounter with Vlad.

“There’s no mention of an incident or break-in involving Vlad’s mansion,” Jazz told them. She’d been monitoring the local news and online channels. “Vlad himself has been pretty quiet. He hasn’t had a public appearance for over a week now. He’s slated to be at the public opening of that new bridge next Monday.”

“He’s likely preparing,” Phantom said. “Now that he knows his Ectoranium suit is as effective as it is, he’s going to be moving quickly to get the next steps of his plan in motion. He’ll be influencing major world leaders to get them to sign away all their authority to his human alter ego. It’ll take a lot of coordination to do.”

“How do you think he’s planning on getting all these leaders to do what he’s asking?” Sam asked him. “No same and logical person would ever sign away their authority to some mayor of a small town in the US. And that’s even assuming there’s a legal process that allows that for every country.”

“If he wants all of this to be as legal as defined in human law, then he’ll need to possess every single lawmaker needed to get a law that allows a power transfer to him passed and active. Then, he’ll need to possess the leaders to sign over the power to him. If he wants the process to go even more smoothly, he’ll influence particular people in power so they announce their support of the changes to the public.”

Jazz folded her arms. “Even if all the important people are advocating for this change, a lot of people are going to be baffled and push back. The idea itself is extreme.”

Sam agreed with her; it was something out of an Illuminati conspiracy. 

Phantom raised a shoulder. “Even if there was a rebellion, it wouldn’t do much good. It won’t take long for Vlad to establish his tyranny after he gets all this legal noise out of the way. Any protest will be crushed, and no one will dare resist him after that.”

Sam’s jaw clenched at the prediction. She disdained how he was probably right.

Jazz’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, wait a second. I just remembered now…” The redhead pulled out her phone and typed something. She grimaced at the result. “Yup.”

She turned her phone so the screen faced the three others. It was an article with the headline: “ILLINOIS SENATOR PROPOSES RADICAL CHANGE TO PRESIDENTIAL POWERS, ELECTIONS.”

Sam swore.

As soon as Mrs. Fenton finished with Phantom’s stitches, she pulled off her gloves and rubbed her fingers against her temple as if to ward off a headache. “We need to do something. Quickly.”

“I would’ve done something, if I hadn’t been threatened with being strapped to the bed,” Phantom grumbled. Now free of the stitches and bandages, the Ghost King waved his hand and his usual attire formed onto his body. That familiar, undeniable ripple of power flowed off of him, and Sam couldn’t help but feel relief at the sight.

Even still, Sam promptly smacked the back of his head. Phantom made an unking-like yelp and grabbed the offending spot. “Mrs. Fenton was being reasonable and saved your sorry ass from getting killed, both from the Ectoranium and the assured death you’d have been greeted with if you’d followed through with your idea.”

Phantom scowled but didn’t argue.

Jazz coughed to hide a smile.

“There has to be some way of stopping Vlad,” Sam said. “Or even slowing him down. If we at least slow him down, we have more time to figure out how to stop him.”

“Oh!” Jazz snapped her fingers. “We could destroy his image! We could tell everyone that he’s half ghost. That way, even if he does overshadow people to give him legal power, people will riot at the idea of their government handing over leadership to a ghost. It’ll delegitimize any decision related to a transfer of power and it will be far more difficult to calm the public down. “Also, Vlad is the ultimate narcissist.” Jazz paced back and forth, her full psychoanalytical gears turning in her head. “I really think that he’s doing all of this believing it’s for the good of the world. He overshadows everyone to make it appear as if his power is legitimate instead of dictatorial oppression because he wants the world to believe he deserves it. If we tell the world that he’s part ghost, it shatters any possibility of that happening.”

Phantom nodded slowly. “That would give us time to figure out how to deal with the Ectoranium in his suit. It will definitely piss him off.”

Sam wasn’t very concerned at the possibility. “If he’s angry, he’s more likely to make mistakes. Besides, the fucking crazed fruitloop deserves to have a shitty day after all he’s done.”

“I can anonymously send _The Amity Daily_ a tip and give them Vlad’s bug and the existence of the basement as proof,” Jazz decided. Jazz was in her element, facing a difficult problem and puzzling out the perfect solution. “And then I’ll start an online petition to protest!” She hurried upstairs to set her plan into motion.

“I’ll do some more research,” Mrs. Fenton told Sam. “There’s not much known about Ectoranium because it’s so rare, but there’s a chance that there’s something we don’t know that can help us. Plus, I’m very interested to see if I can figure out how exactly Plasmius can be in an Ectoranium-powered suit when he’s a half-ghost.”

“Good plan,” Sam nodded. “I still need to work with the Ring, but I can join you and help out when I’m taking a break.”

“Okay, sweetie, just make sure you’re drinking water and eating.” The maternal reminder was amusingly jarring after talk of ghostly takeovers and news leaks. Sam smothered a smile. After Sam’s warm reassurance, Jazz’s mom patted Sam on the shoulder and moved to head upstairs.

“Mrs. Fenton,” Phantom called to the Fenton matriarch. “Thank you. For saving me, and how you’ve cared and protected Sam.”

Sam gaped at him. Phantom could have just turned his head into a dragon and spouted fire, it would have been more in character.

“O-of course,” Mrs. Fenton said faintly. “I love Sam, and I’ve made it my life’s work to protect humans from malicious ghosts.” She moved to face him more. “Sam mentioned that Vlad’s obsession was...me.” Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. 

“You want to know whether his insane delusions about you are because of the ghost part of him, or if that’s just who he is.”

Mrs. Fenton grimaced and rubbed her arm. “That obvious, is it?”

Phantom glanced at Sam. “Lucky guess.” He tilted his head to the side. “I can’t give you an exact answer. Ghosts aren’t ones to research themselves. If you ask me, Plasmius or Masters or whatever you want to call him always had this in him. The ghost just enhanced what was already there.”

It took Mrs. Fenton time to swallow that bitter pill. “In my mind’s eye, I still see Vlad as being one of my closest friends. We’ve known each other for twenty years. He and Jack are almost brothers. To know it’s all a lie…”

Sympathetic, Sam watched Mrs. Fenton leave, a visible slump in her step. Sam blew a raspberry as she took the garbage out of the garbage can. “I feel bad for them. The person she thought was her best friend turned out to be a crackpot perversely obsessed with her.” If Plasmius had his way, Sam imagined him to be the type who would treat Mrs. Fenton like an expensive car: kept in good condition, used only when he wanted to show off, and then put her somewhere safe when he wasn’t.

Phantom asked, “Did you want me to lie to her?”

Sam shook her head. She tied up the garbage tag closed. “Nothing good comes out of her having any misconceptions about her old friend. She goes into anything involving him blind to what his true intentions are, and she and who knows else would be dead.”

Phantom nodded in agreement. “That’s what I figured.”

Sam assessed him. With the stitches out and the scar left behind by Plasmius’ dagger fading, he looked close to normal. She knew what that meant. All along, Phantom had made it clear that he would go right back out there and face Plasmius again. Even though he hadn’t said a word about it, Sam knew that what had happened to Spectra and Bertrand were weighing heavily on his mind.

Phantom refused to let anyone else get hurt, and Sam had a bone-deep fear that it was going to get him killed. The only thing that Sam could do right then was to fine-tune the control she had over the Ring and try to come up with a plan that wouldn’t get them all killed.

Easier said than done.

“You look like you want to stab someone,” Phantom noted with a hint of amusement. “What did the trash ever do to you?”

Sam huffed at him, but took the distraction. “It was looking at me wrong,” she said dryly.

He smirked at her, and she briefly thought back to when that expression made her want to simultaneously run away and punch him in the face. Now, after dropping the trash bag to the floor, she ran her fingers softly over the ridge of his stomach, where she knew the fading line of Phantom’s stab wounds lay.

“There was a question I thought of earlier this morning,” she told Phantom quietly, “I asked Mrs. Fenton and she wasn’t sure herself. Which did not seem promising for our chances of getting out of this mess unharmed.”

Phantom’s eyebrows drew together. “What is it?”

“Because Plasmius is half human,” Sam drummed her fingers against her arm, “would he actually die if we killed him? Or would he just become a full ghost or a full human if we only killed one half of him?”

Phantom sighed and raked a hand through his hair. He didn’t seem surprised at the idea, which meant that he had been thinking of it as well. “No other halfa like Plasmius has ever existed, so I don’t know for sure what would happen if his human half was killed. My gut says that you're right: He’ll either be fully, permanently killed, or he’ll become a full ghost. And you’re right, Plasmius becoming a ghost is shittily inconvenient—something I could totally see him managing to do just to spite us”—Sam snorted at that—“but you’re forgetting something.”

Phantom grasped her shoulders with both hands. He looked at her directly in the eye. “The more ghost Plasmius is, the more power we have over him. So, no matter how powerful of a ghost he is. Against the two of us, we will have him on his knees with a blink of an eye. You could dissolve him with a snap of your fingers.”

The conviction and the belief in the power that they have together had her cheeks flushing. She grasped the front of his shift and kissed him, and that was the end of that conversation.

When they pulled away, Sam said breathlessly, “Come on, I haven’t tried teleporting since getting back and I want to see if I can do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until next chapter! Seriously can't believe we only have three chapters left...


	14. you should see me in a crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who wondered if I'd dropped off the map in the last week: I'm so sorry for being MIA and not replying to reviews!!! This past week was hectic for me after being put on a new team at work and so I didn't have a lot of time to sit down and put the kind of thoughtful attention I like to give to reviews (especially for the lovely people who have commented every week!!). I promise that I've read every review, and I will 100% reply to them soon!! I figured that you all would prefer I post the next chapter before responding to reviews ;D

It took Sam time to realize that something was off. Phantom was still just as patient and helpful in guiding her to learn the Ring of Rage.

But Phantom seemed distracted. Consumed in thoughts.

Sam continued to practice, to refine her control, while watching him. She tried to figure out why he was acting this way.

Eventually, they called an end to today’s practice, and headed upstairs.

As Sam put on a ratty T-shirt and shorts that she borrowed from Jazz, she eyed Phantom, who stared silently out the window. 

Sam sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “Alright, what’s wrong?”

Phantom twitched. “What? Nothing’s wrong.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “You’ve had something on your mind all day. Spill.”

Phantom gave her a startled look. Then, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s fine. Just something I’ve been trying to figure out.”

Sam tilted her head. “Something about Plasmius?”

“Yes and no.” He approached the bed and sat down. He stared down at his hands. “I’m trying to figure out what Plasmius could have done to Spectra and Bertrand.”

“Spectra and Bertrand? Didn’t they die?”

Phantom pressed his lips together. “I sense that they still exist. They haven’t been destroyed. Not yet, at least.”

Sam realized, “The same way you can sense where ghosts are.”

“Yeah. But if they’re still alive, then that means that Plasmius still has them.”

_And who knows what nasty shit Plasmius would do,_ Sam grimly filled in the unspoken words.

“Spectra understood the danger of being Spymaster,” Phantom said, “but that doesn’t mean that she deserves to be there.”

Sam crossed her arms. “Spectra struck me as the type of person who wasn’t...satisfied. With just being the Spymaster.”

Phantom signed and rested his head against the bed frame. “Spectra has always wanted to be in a position of power. Her human life and the way that she died had made her need to be powerful and admired. I never blamed her for it.”

“That must suck, to remember enough to wish things had been different,” Sam murmured.

Phantom’s eyes were distant. “You’re damned if you remember and damned if you don’t.”

“Do you...remember?” Sam twisted the edge of her shirt with her fingers. “Remember your life before you died?”

Phantom’s hair covered his eyes. The ghostly glow he exuded flickered. “No. I don’t have any memory from when I was alive.”

Given how long Phantom had been a ghost, it didn’t surprise Sam. But the hollowness in his voice left Sam aching in sympathy.

“That must suck,” Sam said softly. “Forgetting.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Still,” Sam insisted, “it’s a part of you that got lost.”

Phantom shrugged. “I’ve been a ghost for a long time, and the world has changed a lot since then. Everything that was part of my human life is long gone. I’ve made peace with it.”

While he did sound certain, there was an uncurrent of sadness that had Sam thinking that it was maybe not fully true. She took his hand in his and squeezed.

Phantom swallowed at the sight of their hands intertwined. “There’s one thing I remember from my human life,” he said quietly. “My name.”

Sam’s heart tightened.

“I don’t remember my last name, if I had one. But my first name. The closest modern equivalent would be Danny.”

“Danny,” Sam repeated, a flush spreading over her cheeks. It was such a normal name for someone who’d become so otherworldly.

Even still, Sam knew how monumental it was for the Ghost King to share his original human name. The trust involved.

“I don’t even remember how I got the name Phantom. It just stuck. There were other things to worry about, like avoiding the millions of rules and laws Pariah instituted to keep himself in power and his subjects under his heel. There were eyes everywhere, and I had to focus on protecting myself and the people around me. I had thought that once Pariah was gone that I could relax.” Phantom rolled his eyes at the memory.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, but how did you become Ghost King? It sounds like you weren’t the likely choice and a lot of people were angry at the decision.”

Phantom snorted. “Angry is an understatement. I was the last ghost on anyone’s mind to be chosen. _I_ was the last person in my mind to be chosen. The Observants had already chosen the successors who would wear the Ring and Crown in private too.”

“Really? Then how did it change?”

Phantom shot her a dry look. “Clockwork.”

Sam blinked. “ _Clockwork?_ What did Clockwork do?”

Phantom rolled his eyes at the memory. “His usual MO. The Observants gathered all ghosts so that they could announce the successor. Just before they were going to say the ghosts’ names, Clockwork swooped in and announced, ‘Phantom would be the next Ghost King.’ While everyone was trying to figure out who the fuck this no-name ‘Phantom’ was, the Observants dragged me to a private room so that they could yell at Clockwork and me. I had no idea what the fuck was going on. All Clockwork said was that ‘Phantom was the best and only option for King’ and that ‘it didn’t matter that he didn’t have a partner to share the Ghost King’s power, he would find one eventually,’ or some bullshit like that.”

Phantom shook his head ruefully. “The Observants were _pissed,_ but their hands were tied. I very loudly, very clearly expressed my opinion that Clockwork was delusional and that I _shouldn’t_ be given the throne. But Clockwork pulled me aside and told me that the entire Ghost Zone and everyone in it would be destroyed if I didn’t accept. I had wanted so badly to give him a big fuck you and say no, but,” Phantom gave a weary shrug, “I knew people were counting on me, and Clockwork wasn’t known to be a malicious asshole. Well, at least to people who didn’t deserve it.”

Sam could imagine how pissed off she’d be if her one job was to pick the next Ghost King when this enigmatic know-it-all just took over her job and threw her decision in the garbage. And how overwhelming it must have been to have the entire responsibility of the Ghost Zone shoved into her lap, and being expected to do it all by herself. She would’ve punched Clockwork in the face. “And Clockwork never gave a reason beyond you being ‘the only option’?”

“Nope,” Phantom popped the end of the word. “I’ve asked him hundreds of times and he’s never given me a straight answer. I’ve given up on getting one from the asshole.”

An idea struck Sam suddenly. “Wait, Clockwork is the ghost of time, right? Wouldn’t he know about your human life?”

Phantom shook his head. “Like I said, he’s a secretive asshole, and he’s not going to give up something like that.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Sam protested, outraged on Phantom’s behalf. “This was all part of your past. It won’t change how things are now or in the future.”

Phantom’s smile was rueful and jaded. “Even if I did ask him, I knew what his answer would be. I’ve resigned myself to it.”

Sam scowled. “That’s not fair to you, though. You’ve already given so much to the Ghost Zone and its people, all without getting a reason. You at least deserve an answer. You deserve to remember what your human life was like.”

“I haven’t been Danny for a long time,” Phantom said, a solemn note in his voice. Sam opened her mouth, but Phantom cut her off, “No, I really haven’t. Danny died as soon as my human life ended. I accepted that a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t mean that you don’t have a right to miss it,” Sam said quietly. “Or mourn it after all this time.”

Phantom’s clenched in his lap.

This was something he’d been repressing for a while, Sam realized. With no one to really talk to about it. Even though a ghost’s past life defined their afterlife, there was this stubborn taboo against talking or thinking about human life with anything but contempt or disgust. Phantom already had to put up so many walls to hide any vulnerability from his subjects and enemies, and he very much was the type of person who would hide his hurts and pain to protect his friends. But that was an incredibly lonely way to exist and, for all his mistakes and flaws, he deserved more than that.

“Maybe,” Sam said hesitatingly, “I could call you Danny. Only if we’re alone though. But that way, you can try to remember your old life. And you can take a break from being the Ghost King. If only for a minute.”

There was a pause and Sam swore that Phantom would shut her down. Sam jerked when he hugged her out of sheer surprised reflex. “I would like that,” he said into her hair. “Thank you.”

“Oh,” Sam said faintly into Phantom’s—Danny’s—chest. “Okay. Cool. Um, Danny.”

* * *

A bang startled Sam awake.

She rolled to her feet and crouched low next to the bed, ghostly energy pooling in her palms, before—

“Sam, it’s me!” a voice shouted.

Sam paused. She knew that voice. Blinking the sleep from her eyes. her room at the Fenton’s came into focus. Peering over the bed, she saw a flash of orange hair. It took a moment to parse the information through the sleep and defense haze. “Jazz?”

“Yes, it’s me. Come on, you have to get up. It’s Plasmius, he’s attacking.”

Danny swore. “Where?”

“All over. Basically every country’s capital, as far as I can tell, and here. He and an army of ghosts are attacking downtown.”

It was Sam’s turn to swear.

“We forced his hand. He’s abandoning all pretenses and taking over the human world by force. My parents are in the living room assessing the damage. Come down when you’re ready.”

“Shit,” Sam said tightly. She grabbed a pair of pants and a sweatshirt. “This is bad.”

Sam and Danny went to the living room.

“It won’t take long before every country concedes,” Danny agreed, his eyebrows furrowed darkly. “With the Ghost King’s army, it will only take a day or two at most.”

“That soon?” Sam said sharply. “Even with the Guys in White and other anti-ghost groups?”

Danny shook his head. “As much as they’d like to believe they were prepared for an invasion, but they were kidding themselves.”

“We need to stop this now.” Mrs. Fenton’s voice was tense.

“This ends only one way,” Danny stated.

Sam glared at him. “No. You still aren’t completely healed and we have no way to stop Vlad’s suit and Ectoranium.”

“And if I don't, then the human and ghost worlds will fall.”

Sam gritted her teeth.

“Sweetie,” Mrs. Fenton’s voice was gentle, “I hate to say this, but he’s right.”

Sam’s head whipped over to see the older ghost hunter looking at her with a hint of regret. Sam didn’t know what the expression on her face looked like, but Sam was pretty sure that she hadn’t been able to mask the hurt that had stabbed into her chest at those words.

“It’s important for us to keep Amity out of Plasmius’ control,” Danny was saying. “To him, Amity is his home territory—his original territory—and it will piss him off if we take Amity. He’ll be sure to come and confront me, and that’s where I’ll end it.”

Mrs. Fenton was nodding. Mr. Fenton was grinning with anticipation. Jazz’s face was set in determination.

And Sam stood there as they planned.

* * *

Sam had half a mind to dunk her head under the shower’s spray and stay there.

Her mind was too full. Too many worries. Too many scenarios running through her head. Too many of them ended in something terrible happening.

The plan had felt set before Sam could announce a single protest. They all seemed determined to believe that Danny had to face Plasmius with all the Ectoranium at his disposal alone. The human ghost hunters felt they were needed in driving Plasmius’ army back and taking control of Amity’s City Hall. The Fentons and Sam would gather all the humans who could and would fight, and they would use the control of the city as a jumping off point to help other cities, and eventually other countries.

Sam lowered her head. Hot, scorching water battered her neck and shoulders, but the heat was soothing against the tension in her muscles.

Plans were coming together and Sam could taste the final confrontation brewing on the horizon. And it sent her heartbeat into overdrive and a clamp around her chest.

There was a whisper, a faint rustling. Sam opened her eyes and met Danny’s gaze. He peered at her through the glass, careful and assessing.

Sam felt the childish urge to turn away. To close her eyes and ignore him. The same way that he and the Fentons had when planning the most important battle of their lives.

But Sam sighed and slid the shower door open. Without a word, Danny pulled off his suit, dropping it carelessly on the bathroom tile, then stepping into the shower with her.

At first, they just stood there. And then, Danny bent, reaching for the shampoo battle. He squirted a dollop into the palm of his hand, then held out his hands waiting.

Silently, Sam turned around to face the front of the shower. Fingers curled through her hair, rubbing her scalp, massaging the shampoo into her hair. Unbidden, Sam’s head fell back into the touch.

Danny was the one who spoke first. “It’s not a bad plan.”

Sam snorted bitterly. “You mean the plan where four ghost hunters and a couple of amateur shooters try taking on an army of ghosts, and you take on a guy wearing your version of Kryptonite? That plan?”

“It’s not any worse than a plan for the ghost hunters to take on a powerful plant ghost by themselves,” he replied dryly.

Sam scowled and leaned forward, putting her head under the water and sending soap suds trickling over her skin.

Danny didn’t try to reach for her. “But those two hunters still managed to beat the ghost anyway. So maybe plans are overrated.”

Words burst out of her. “That’s different and you know it! Undergrowth was nothing compared to this. Undergrowth wasn’t trying to overthrow the Ghost King, he was just trying to control humans—”

“There is something else that’s bothering you, isn’t there?” he asked quietly.

“I’m just—” Sam faltered. She pressed her lips together.

“What is it?”

“It’s selfish,” she admitted. “The entire world is depending on us to win. Our lives don’t weigh much against the lives of the entire world. But I’ve already lost so much to this, and these are all people I care about. The people fighting for the fate of the world are like my second family, and I can’t, I really can’t lose anyone else. Which is really fucking selfish of me, the entire world doesn’t give a shit about a small family of four and the Ghost King, but dammit I—” Sam choked, clapping a hand to her mouth. She felt if she said anything more, she’d break down.

Hands framed her face, breaking her free of her inner whirlpool of thoughts. Thick steam wrapped around them.

“It’s not selfish,” Danny said firmly. “Being selfish would mean running from it all and hiding. Being selfish would mean leaving this fight to someone else. Being selfish would mean being afraid for yourself.”

Sam gave a helpless shrug. “Sure, I’m afraid for myself. But it doesn’t mean I can turn away from this. I signed up for this when I became a ghost hunter. I signed up for this when I put the Ring of Rage on my finger.”

Danny sucked in a breath at that.

“Are you afraid?” she whispered to him.

He exhaled, and he rested his forehead against hers. “I’m not exactly afraid of death. Or ceasing to exist, whatever you want to call it.” He brushed a hand through her hair. “I think about other things.”

Sam felt a shiver run through her, and she forced his breathing still. The heat of the water and the moisture in the air had smoldering warmth flowing through her limbs, leaving her tingling and wanting. “What do you think about?”

Danny shuddered at her words. The shadows across his face sharpened and his chest rose and fell. “Things I shouldn’t be thinking.” Danny’s voice was low. So, so low. And it didn’t soothe the restless fire. She couldn’t help but draw closer. Her gaze dropped down and saw him hard and flushed.

Sam stepped forward, and she slid her index finger along the side of his cock. “What do you think about?”

Danny let out a groan. His head fell back, but his eyes never left hers. “You,” he admitted. 

The single word shot through her body and settled right between her legs. Danny moved, pressing his leg between her thighs. He tilted his head down, pressing his mouth to where Sam’s neck met her shoulder. “I think about you facing these ghosts by yourself and I—” His voice was wrecked and impossibly hot, and Sam could only grasp at him, pulling him closer. “You need to be there, I know that. Even if I hate it more than anything.”

Danny’s thigh slid upwards, and Sam’s eyes almost rolled back in her head. “I could say the same thing about you,” Sam gasped.

Danny grumbled at that. He shifted, his mouth trailing up her neck to find that spot under her jaw, and Sam shuddered in his hold. One tug, and then their mouths crashed together.

It was tough and intense and soothing at the same time. Sam felt the need and desire in Danny’s grip, the way his lips moved against hers, and it only made her more wild. Before, she’d had uncertainties and fear intermixed with desire. Now, there was nothing holding her back from wanting this.

Teeth grazed her bottom lip, then licked the sting away. Sam rose upward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and he responded by curling his hands under her ass and lifting her fully against him.

And Sam knew what she wanted.

Sam curled her hand along the base of his head and brought their foreheads together.

“If you make me yours,” she murmured against his lips. Then she bit his shoulder hard. “Then you’re mine.”

Danny sucked in a breath. And then his cock was pushing into her, sending delicious fullness through her. Sam let out a moan, rocking her hips into him, and Danny’s hands bruised into her thighs and hips. And Sam loved it. She wanted the ache and the marks and the raw strength to be used on her.

The shower still spitted water behind her, and the scalding water added to the sensations of the wet press of tongues past teeth and the electric shocks sent tingling up her spine every time he slid his cock along that spot inside of her. Sam licked over the bite mark on his shoulder, and Danny groaned, his hips snapping against her harder. His thumb slid down her body until he found her clit, rubbing it in circles.

Sam’s _everything_ was on fire. Her legs spasmed around Danny’s waist, her fingers were tingling. Her thighs shook, and her back arched. She gasped, “Danny—”

It’s as if Sam sent a bolt of lightning careening through his body. “Fuck,” Danny groaned. He brought their mouths together, “You’re mine,” he growled against her, “And I’m yours.”

Sam can’t say anything more than helpless noises. She just gasped and whined and twisted her fingers in his hair, raking it down his back, _begging—_

A single stroke, and then all Sam could see was white. Unintelligible sounds fell from view as she shook apart. Two more thrusts and Danny followed her, shuddering against her. He leaned forward and rested her against the shower wall.

Sam’s knees felt like jelly, and all she could do was hold onto Danny for fear of collapsing onto the shower floor.

Sam hummed against Danny’s shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Promise me something?” Danny said in her ear.

Sam raised her head. “What is it?”

“No matter what happens, when we finally do fight. Promise me you won’t use your ghost powers.”

Sam reared back to look at him. “What?”

“Plasmius. He definitely has the kind of tech to be able to track any being with a signature strong enough. If you use your powers, then he will know and he will find you. So please… Promise me you won’t use your powers. Not unless you have to.”

Sam hesitated. “I promise.”

* * *

“Right, so we’ve got Spector Deflectors, bazookas, hand cannons, the nine-tails, hand grenades, our armor, and the bats,” Mrs. Fenton listed, tapping a piece of paper and pointing to each item in the back of the RV. “Damon Gray said that he’d help out with communications. He’ll use the Fenton surveillance system to keep track of the ghosts, figure out where we need to be. Jack is trying to whip up an Ectoranium detector—the energies should be easy to detect, considering it’s the opposite signature of ghosts. That way, we can track Plasmius the same way we can track every being that’s attacking.”

“That’s good,” Sam murmured. “What’s the state of the world right now?”

“Not great,” Jazz admitted with a wince. “Most of the countries with unstable governments have already fallen. Those with strong militaries are war zones. There’s a lot of fear and panic, and people are taking advantage of the chaos with looting and riots.”

Sam winced at the mental image. “And Amity Park?”

“The city hired the Extreme Ghostbreakers as a private contractor for ‘security.’” Jazz rolled her eyes. “City Hall got taken within thirty minutes.”

“So our first job is to take it back,” Mrs. Fenton added. “I pulled up the floor plans on the desktop.”

Sam gave her a nod. “I’ll take a look.”

“I got it!” Mr. Fenton crowed. He burst into the room with a metal box over his head.

“You got it working? That’s great, honey!” Mrs. Fenton gave him a smile and a kiss. Mr. Fenton grinned wider.

“Took me only a few hours,” Mr. Fenton said proudly. “Detects as little as a gram of Ectoranium within a 100-mile radius. And even better? It confirms the largest amount of Ectoranium, pinpoints the exact area, and then pulls up the security cam footage of the location.”

“That’s great, Mr. Fenton. That way, we know for sure where Plasmius is.” Sam leaned forward towards the monitor. “Have you spotted him yet?”

“I saw the suit, just let me…” Mr. Fenton fiddled with the controls and the screen flickered to life.

On it, Plasmius was shouting something in joy and glee while shooting at things beyond the frame.

“That’s his suit?” The pure surprise in Mr. Fenton’s voice was unmistakable.

“Yeah.”

“It looks just like the Ecto-Skeleton.” The pure scientific fascination coated the inventor’s voice. A car exploded half a block away and he didn’t even flinch. “That suit looks like it’s completely powered by Ectoranium instead of the wearer’s natural abilities. Genius! We never figured out how to power the Ecto-Skeleton without draining the wearer’s energy to near fatal levels and keeping the power of the Suit.”

Sam’s mind raced. “Mr. Fenton, did you or Mrs. Fenton ever show the Ecto-Skeleton to Vlad back when you were developing it?”

“He was the first person we showed it to! He was amazed at the suit’s power and capabilities.” That’s when he finally caught up with her. “Oh, you don’t think Vladdy…”

“I do think he stole the Ecto-Skeleton and tweaked it to use in his own suit, yes,” Sam said flatly. Sam despised people stealing others’ honest work for themselves on principle, but Sam didn’t have time to be outraged. Not when Vlad’s laziness could potentially be his downfall. “Mr. Fenton, did you or Mrs. Fenton struggle with any technical problem of bugs with the suit?”

Mr. Fenton shrugged. “The only issue we had was the suit draining the wearer too much too quickly. Everything else functioned perfectly, but the one flaw caused the entire project to be scrapped. I’m still frustrated to this day that we weren’t able to find a workaround.”

Shit, so much for an easy way to take Plasmius down. Sam let loose a frustrated sigh, then unholstered her Fenton pistol. “Come on, we have a ghost army to stop.”

Brightening at the prospect, Mr. Fenton charged up his Fenton bazooka and readied it for shooting. “Time to stop some ghosts!”

Danny leaned over Sam’s shoulder. “Where is he now?”

Mr. Fenton hummed and checked the monitor. “Looks like he’s in Virginia, close to DC.”

“Is that the Pentagon?” Jazz asked incredulously. “That looks like the front entrance.”

“How do you know?” Mr. Fenton squinted.

Jazz shot her dad an exasperated look. “I do watch the news sometimes, unlike you and mom.”

“That’s a bold fucking move, just attacking the Department of Defense like that.” Sam’s mouth twisted. “The place will be smouldering embers within an hour.”

“Not if I can help it.” Danny stood tall and strong. His face was set and sure.

“Then I guess we know where we’re headed.” Mrs. Fenton snapped a bunch of Fenton bombs into her holster. The doorbell rang. “That must be Mr. Gray. I’ll go and get him set up.”

Jazz nodded at her mom as she left the room. “I’ll close up the RV and get the engine running. Dad, can you help me out?”

“Sure thing, sweetie!” Mr. Fenton moved to follow her.

Jazz stopped at Danny’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she told him.

Danny’s eyes furrowed. “For what?”

“For not being the asshole I thought you were,” Jazz said bluntly. Danny blinked. Sam fought back a snort. “If we get out of this in one piece, I want a talk with you. I have an idea for spectral conflict de-escalation tactics; we could change the way we interact with ghosts.”

At that, Sam couldn’t help the bark of laughter from escaping her at the befuddled look on the Ghost King’s face.

“Uh… Don’t I get a say in this?”

Sam snorted. “You’d think. As soon as Jazz realizes that you’re not off-limits, you’ll find yourself hooked up to a monitor and being interrogated about your mental psyche or whatever. One time I found myself at a six-hour sleepover here for ‘psychological analysis.’”

Danny paused for a second. “I don’t know what that means, and I don’t think I want to know.”

Jazz said firmly, “If I thought that you were off-limits, then I wouldn’t trust you with members of my family.” She eyed her father, and then Sam.

He eyed Jazz carefully before finally saying, “I could say the same thing to you.”

Suddenly, it was a lot harder for Sam to breathe.

But Jazz just smiled and patted Danny’s shoulders. “Stay safe,” was all Jazz said before striding out the door.

Mr. Fenton clapped Danny’s shoulder. “Go get him,” he told Danny, and then he followed his daughter.

And then Sam and Danny were alone.

Sam couldn’t rid herself of the tension in her frame. Thoughts and words whirled in her head, but she didn’t know what to say.

“I know that you had a different take on this,” Danny said. “But I want you to know that I’m glad that you slapped me when we first met.”

Sam quirked a smile at that. But then it disappeared quickly.

Danny sensed her disquietment.

Danny raised his hand. Sam closed her eyes as he softly brushed her cheek.

“Just…” Danny swallowed. “ _Be careful,_ alright?”

“I will.” Sam grasped his hand at her jaw tightly. “You too, okay?”

“If you need me, you call me,” Danny said firmly. “No matter what happens, okay?”

“Danny—”

“I mean it.” Danny grasped her face in both his hands. “I told you I’d keep you safe, didn’t I? You and your whole family. I’m not going to go back on that. So you call me if you need me.”

Sam bit her lip. “Okay. As long as you promise me that you will kick his ass for me, okay? Don’t get yourself killed.”

Danny gave her a crooked smile. It was not a happy one. Instead, he kissed her. For the first time, it was one not steeped in passion or lust. Instead, it was soft and slow. Sam just closed her eyes and let herself lose herself in the moment. Because then, she could just take a second to forget and lose herself in them. In this. Savoring the smell of him and how tightly he held her.

When had everything become a lot simpler when it came to Danny Phantom?

They pulled back as softly as they had come together. Danny rested his forehead on hers.

“You take care,” he told her again. And then he rose up into the air and phased through the ceiling.

Sam tried not to think about how he didn't answer when she asked him not to die.

“Sam?” Jazz popped her head in through the door. “We’re ready.”

Sam inhaled deeply. Then, her spine straightened and she let steel harden her features.

“Let’s do this.”

* * *

“Everyone ready?” Mrs. Fenton’s voice echoed from her place in person and the feedback of the comm in Sam’s ears. Sam adjusted the Fenton Phones to fit more snugly into her ears.

“Roger,” Jazz replied.

“Roger!” Mr. Fenton added.

“Roger,” Sam said softly.

Sam and the Fentons were crouched behind a bush fifty feet from the west side of City Hall.

“This place is already crawling with ghosts,” Jazz muttered from behind Sam.

“I count forty ghosts in the building and ten surrounding the building,” Damon Grey reported. “You guys gonna be okay?”

“We’ll be fine,” Mrs. Fenton said, her voice fully calm. “Team, prep to move, we go in fifteen.”

One of the biggest lessons the Fentons had taught her was that panic and adrenaline were a bad combination. Your body getting caught up in the fight or flight instinct would mean that your body betrayed you: your breathing got too fast, your hands uncontrollably shaking. Getting caught up in that panic was a great way to get killed.

“Ten.”

One of the biggest parts of Sam’s training was learning how to be calm in extremely stressful situations. Learning how to calm her body down. Slow her heart rate down instead of speed it up.

“Five.”

Her heartbeat slowed.

Her vision widened.

Her breathing came slow and steady.

“Now.”

And then Sam was moving.

The first ghost didn’t even see her coming. Sam came up from behind it, stunned it with a hit from the Fenton Peeler, then sucked it into the Fenton Thermos before it could even shout.

Jazz and Mr. Fenton had already taken out two more ghosts by the time Sam had caught up to the group. Mrs. Fenton was already scouting ahead, peeking around the corner of the building. She motioned that there were two guards. Mrs. Fenton darted around the corner and Mr. Fenton followed her. Within a few seconds, the ghosts were securely in Thermoses. Mr. Fenton was already opening the door when Sam and Jazz darted out.

Mrs. Fenton entered City Hall first. Jazz and Sam were immediately after her, and Sam saw the ghost first. Sam moved to fire, but the ghost was faster.

“Intruders!” It cried loudly. Then, its irises blazed crimson, and then it turned from this wispy smoke to a snarling, molten creature. It charged. Sam kept firing, but the shots only left stinging welts. Loud shots rang in Sam’s ears as Jazz and Mrs. Fenton joined her in firing.

Mr. Fenton shouted, and then a small canister was sailing in the air towards the molten ghost. Shit. Sam stopped firing and then threw herself backwards. _Bang._ Sam hit the ground. Her tailbone twinged.

The ghost was now a splatter on all the walls, including the ceiling. Mr. Fenton was sucking up the remnants into the Fenton Thermos when Mrs. Fenton shouted, “Incoming!”

More ghosts. Their eyes landed on the remnants of their comrade, and they roared and swooped overhead. Sam scrambled to get back on her feet. She started aiming for the ghosts.

“Jazz!” Mr. Fenton shouted and then threw something towards her.

Jazz caught it and then she was swinging it. Whips leapt out and lashed at a nearby ghost in the shape of a monstrous wasp. The whips ensnared the wasp’s body, including its legs and wings, before it vanished out of sight.

A shadow loomed behind Jazz. Between one breath and the next, Sam fired. There was a screech, and then it dissipated.

“Sam!” Jazz shouted. And then tendrils were wrapped around her torso bruisingly tight. Her feet left the ground. Sam tried to twist free, but the arm had the strength of steel. She grip her teeth and fired at the arm, but it only made it constrict tighter.

And then there was this horrible squelching sound and an inhuman roar. The arm loosened and Sam barely managed to land on her feet. Mrs. Fenton landed right near Sam, a machete coated in Ectoplasm. A ghostly squid collapsed in a heap behind them.

“Thanks,” Sam told Mrs. Fenton. Mrs. Fenton gave her a nod.

Mr. Fenton and Jazz approached them as Sam and Mrs. Fenton got to their feet. The hallway and the humans were covered in a decent amount of Ectoplasm. 

But they had to keep going. “Everyone alright?” Mrs. Fenton checked with them all. When everyone nodded, she motioned forward. 

They jogged out of the basement and up the staircase to the main floor. Eventually, they reached the main hall, where they found themselves face-to-face with a small army.

The ghost hunter group screeched to a halt. In front, Walker stood, smirking proudly. 

“I’m afraid I’m gonna have to stop you right there.” Walker said in his southern drawl. “This building and this city is now property of Vlad Plasmius. You being here is against the rules.”

“You going against the Ghost King is breaking your ‘rules.’” Jazz’s voice was filled with fury. 

Walker shook his head. “That boy never should have been the King. The rules say that only the Observants should declare the new Ghost King, and that idiotic Time Ghost interfered. Now, Plasmius is putting everything back to where it should be, and everyone involved in this false rule will be”—Walker flashed a bloodthirsty grin—”punished.”

“Kinky,” Sam muttered. Sam glanced at the Fentons, who mirrored the grim look on her face. They did not enjoy these odds. But they didn’t have a choice. They all straightened, their weapons whining as they fired up.

They charged.

Sam’s hearing got muffled. Her focus narrowed to the battle in front of her. It all became shards of images, one after another. A monstrous mesh of bear and lizard in a single form, descending upon her. The beam of her Fenton Peeler catching a pirate ghost in the face. Her hands bracing against the press of a bat. Her hand held a blade that was five inches deep into the stomach of a ghost in prisoner clothes.

There was a yell of pain, and then sounds came rushing through Sam’s brain like she had left the eye of a hurricane. Through it all, Sam swung her head towards the source of the shout.

There. Mr. Fenton was clutching his arm. Blood was seeping through. Gritting her teeth, Sam lashed out at her current opponent with renewed vigor, fighting hard to get to Mr. Fenton. It felt like eternity before she was at his side. Like she had to forcefully wade through a sea of ghosts intent on killing her.

Sam darted down and sliced at the legs of the ghost intent on Mr. Fenton, then sucked it up in the Thermos as it crumbled. Mr. Fenton threw a grenade behind her. The explosion made her ears ring. But then she was trading punches with another ghost.

It was unrelenting. It was endless. It felt like every time Sam had finished a ghost, another was ready and eager to take its place.

And as the sweat dripped into her eyes and the scent of blood and ectoplasm tinged the air, despair began to overcome Sam. Because they were losing. Badly. Which meant they were going to die soon.

Sam gritted her teeth as she took a hit blocking a punch. Her muscles screamed in protest and the Fenton Peeled whined. Her knees threatened to buckle.

A roar of sound buffeted Sam’s ears, and the ghost about to cut her down was blown back in a split second.

Sam staggered against the sudden absence of weight and blinked at the form of the stunned ghost.

“Did someone order some backup?” a dry voice called out above Sam.

Ember hovered ten feet in the air, hair blazing three feet above her head.

“Ember?” Sam stared at the musician ghost as she floated down to Sam’s level. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re here to rescue you and your ghost hunter bros.” Ember winked. “Ghost King’s orders.”

“‘We’?” And that’s when a great, gigantic roar that shuddered through Sam’s bones. Sam looked up in time to see Dora in her dragon form fly ahead and roast a dozen ghosts in a single blast of fire. Shadows jumped off her back, and they glided easily down to form a circle around Sam.

Skulker, Pandora, Frostbite, and _Spectra_ faced her with eager expressions, their weapons ready.

“We are here to destroy these traitors,” Pandora snarled.

“Phantom sent you here?” And then Sam couldn’t help but ask the redheaded ghost, “I thought you were captured by Plasmius?”

Spectra smirked. “King Phantom went back to Plasmius’ lair to bust me and Bertrand from where he was keeping us.”

As Sam took that in, Ember added, “Babypop may have ordered us here, but we would have showed up anyway,” Ember corrected. “Because you’re our Queen.”

Spectra sniffed. “Speak for yourself.” She glared at Sam. “The only reason why I’m here is because my King ordered me to.”

Sam would take what she could get.

A boom shook the ground, jarring Sam from responding.

“That’s great, we could really use your help, flaming ghost!” Mr. Fenton shouted as he wildly fired his Fenton bazooka.

Pandora grinned and shouted with twice the volume as the Fenton man: “Conquer City Hall! Protect the Queen and the ghost hunters!”

The ghosts roared and got to work. Sam, feeling hope for the first time since fighting, jumped back in.

And then they clashed with Plasmius’ army.

Screams and shouts filled the air. It was almost information overload for Sam, keeping track of what was happening around her. 

She spotted something out of the corner of her eye and reacted. “Look out!” She threw herself to the side. She collided with Skulker hard, and they barely managed to avoid a burst of fire. They tumbled behind a car.

Skulker cursed. “Thanks.” Sensors rose from his arm and scanned behind them. “This is a little too close for comfort,” he Skulker. His full weaponry was out and hot. “And more enemies are entering the fight. I just spotted the Fright Knight fly in with his horse.”

“The Infi-map,” Frostbite declared above them. His eyes glowed blue and he reigned a frozen storm behind the car they took cover from. “Plasmius must have used it to recruit ghosts for his army!”

Sam swore at that. “Is that why there seems to a fucking neverending stream of ghosts?”

“I thought it was a stretch for an asshole like Plasmius to find so many ghosts willing to fight for him,” Ember shouted as she blasted a sonic wave with her guitar.

“What do we do?” Jazz spoke over Sam’s comms. “We’ll be overwhelmed soon!”

Sam was too busy fending off attacks from three different ghosts wearing mummy garb to answer. Sam took a blow to the shoulder and she deliberately crumbled, lessening the full force of the blow. She took aim at the ghosts’ legs, and they all fell to the ground. Sam sank a blade into one of the ghosts chest as she fired a headshot at another. The third recovered and lunged for her. Sam rolled and fired again, and the ghost went down.

There was no time to pause. She moved to enter the next fight.

And then she faltered.

It wasn’t that the Ring was rebelling against her, or that it was too much to handle. She wasn’t physically hurt either.

No, somewhere, the Crown of Fire was crying out. And the Ring of Rage couldn’t help but answer.

But that only meant one thing.

A cold chill slithered down her spine.

“Sam, look out!”

Pain exploded at the side of her head. Stars danced across her vision. By the time she blinked them away, Mrs. Fenton’s arms were shaking at the effort to keep a giant ghost with a broadsword from cutting her—and Sam below—down.

Mrs. Fenton grunted and she barely caught her foot from slipping under her. The ghost, smelling impending victory, grinned toothily and pressed harder.

Sam’s head was still ringing. Her body remained motionless. Sam screamed at herself to move, that she needed to _act_ , that Danny was out there dying somewhere and Mrs. Fenton was going to _die_ if she didn’t fucking move.

Pain and desperation triggered a tsunami of emotion to swell, and Sam _screamed._ The energy within her burst into a supernova, and Sam could do nothing but let it move through her and out.

Her vision went white.

When color began filling back in, Mrs. Fenton was rubbing at her eyes under her goggles in a daze. There was no sign of the ghost with the broadsword. There was something off, though, and it took Sam a second to realize that it was silent. Not a single breath or rustle.

Alarmed, Sam wildly glanced around. She became even more alarmed to see every single ghost staring at her.

Slowly, Sam stood up. Even though she didn’t exactly know what happened, it wasn’t hard to guess that she’d used her powers. Which directly went against the plan and Danny’s wishes.

But then the connection between Sam and Danny dangerously fizzled and sputtered, and the number of shits Sam had shot down to zero.

Sam’s spine straightened. “Yes,” Sam spoke. She didn’t yell or shout, yet she knew that they heard her anyway. “I’m a human and I have the Ring of Rage. I’m sure a lot of you are pissed about it for whatever reason. But I don’t give a damn. Because we all know that the so-called ‘King’ you’re fighting for is a liar and a fake. You know who your King is, and he made me his equal.”

The Ring of Rage’s power, once forced to be contained in a small back of herself, was now a part of her. It pumped through her veins and rushed through her like her own lifeblood. Power leaked from her skin and into her voice. “ _I am the Ghost Queen, and you will obey._ _”_

There was a heavy, lengthy pause.

A clang from metal hitting concrete. Sam sought the source and found Skulker kneeling. Next to him, Ember and Poindexter followed.

Soon, one by one, every ghost kneeled before her.

She could feel every single ghost. Could feel the pulse of energy at their cores like heartbeats. She was connected to every single one of them, and they were connected to her.

“Protect all innocent civilians—ghosts and humans—and get them to safety. Kill all traitors,” she ordered.

“You heard our Queen,” Ember bellowed. “Get your asses moving, or you’ll have to answer to the King and Queen.”

The motionless spell broke, and a commotion broke out as all the ghosts scrambled to obey.

“Wow,” someone said. Sam turned to find Mrs. Fenton with a rather befuddled look on her face.

“I have to go,” was all Sam could say.

Mrs. Fenton blinked. “What?”

“I have to go,” she rushed to say. “Da-Phantom’s in trouble.”

And with that, she teleported away.


	15. phantom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh the climax of this fic, finally here!!! This chapter is a little short because it's literally only the final battle, but you can be assured that the next chapter is longer than this. I cannot express how ecstatic I was about the feedback from the last chapter; it was so heartwarming to hear how much you all loved the newly-declared Ghost Queen 👑
> 
> I literally have only two more pieces of two scenes in Chapter 16 to write, and then it's done!!! Holy shit.

Sam appeared in the middle of a war zone. 

She took one breath and the smell of ash and burnt rubber overwhelmed her senses. 

Sam only had a split second to be confused before a  _ boom _ shook the earth around her. She immediately crouched, waiting for an attack. But nothing came at her.

Wary and vigilant, Sam took in her surroundings. There were remnants of destruction all around her, but the major sight was a huge building several stories tall, which looked as if someone had taken a large bite out of the front. Rooms and the infrastructure were exposed, as if someone had treated the building as a cake and cut a huge slice for themself in the center. Behind where the destruction was, Sam could distantly make out the back part of the building, which was still intact.

With horrible realization, Sam realized that she was in front of the Pentagon, where she had last seen Plasmius on Mr. Fenton’s device. The destruction had entirely decimated the front side of the Pentagon, and the ground in front of it was crumbled pieces of rubble, with small patches of twisted mass on fire. Sam guessed grimly that they were the remains of dozens of cars. They weren’t recognizable.

Sam turned around, and two bright sources of light clashed into one another, the collision creating a sound akin to a bomb going off. The two lights bounced back, then veered back and collided together again. It was Danny and Plasmius, and they were fighting with the power of two stars.

But then the green light brightened for one moment, overwhelming the other, and Danny crashed to the ground. Plasmius was on him in an instant, his hands raised over his head to deliver a crushing blow.

For a horrible split second, Sam was in a basement and smelling the scent of ectoplasm.

Sam’s body surged with power. “No!” She lashed out. A powerful wave of energy blew Plasmius away, leaving Danny lying on the ground. 

She flew to Danny in an instant. He looked like he’d gone a few rounds with a raging pack of wolves. But his eyes were clear and raging fire. “You shouldn’t be here,” he gritted.

“And I was, until I could feel you dying,” Sam retorted. “I’m not going to stay away if you’re in trouble.”

“I was doing fine—Look out!” Danny pushed her behind him. A blast hit a shield with the force of a bullet train hitting a brick wall. Danny knocked her back into the dirt from the recoil. The shock rattled her skull.

“Well, well, Ms. Manson,” Plasmius drawled. The arm of his suit still smoked from the shot. “So nice to you to join us.”

“Asshole,” Sam hissed at him.

“I have to say, you took me by surprise, breaking free of the Ectoranium-infused restraints and teleporting out of the shield. It shouldn’t have been possible.” His head tilted to the side. “Tell me, how did you do it?”

“Why the fuck would I tell you?”

The half-ghost sighed, and Sam hated how much it reminded her of her dad. “It would not have come to this if you hadn’t provoked me,” he chastised them. “My plan was as unobtrusive as possible. People would not have gotten hurt.”

Sam snarled at that. “Tell that to my grandmother, you fucker.” Then, she hurled a bolt of lightning at him.

A quick shield and the bolt scattered like ice colliding with the floor. “I’m going to enjoy killing you both,” he promised. Then, he launched at the pair of them. 

Danny’s arm wrapped around her and then she was moving backwards. Danny had taken them and dodged the attack.

“Get out of here,” Danny snarled at her. He pressed his hand to his shoulder. Ectoplasm seeped through his fingers.

“Like hell I will,” she snapped back. “I’m needed here. I will go where I’m needed most to stop Plasmius, and right now that’s right here with you.”

She could feel Danny’s ghostly instincts and his feelings warring with her argument. One look at her face, though, and he deflated. “Fine, just be careful—”

“Look out!” she shouted. Danny braced to move them both, but the chunk of stadium as big as a bus was hurtling towards them too quickly. Sam flung out her hand and sent molten flames to engulf the metal. It melted the stands in an instant. Sam curled her hands into a fist. The liquid metal twisted into a dozen sharp daggers. She flung her hand out and they sliced through the air towards Plasmius.

“Take a second to recover,” Sam ordered Danny. “I can handle Plasmius right now.”

With that, she focused her attention on Plasmius, who had dodged her attack. Sam threw herself forward, and the ground rushed under her. The human and half-ghost clashed, pouring everything they have into stopping the other, and Sam pulled on every scrap of ghost hunter tricks she knew. Her world narrowed down to the opponent in front of her and getting the upper hand.

Things became a little blurry. They got lost in the adrenaline rush and her mind slid back into instinct. There was just the enemy in front of her and her body reacting.

A searing pain lit up her side. Sam grunted. Wait, there's another Plasmius right there. How did—

A shadow lunged towards her, and Sam's body moved on autopilot. The earth cracked under the force of the barely-missed blow from a third Plasmius.

Backing up, Sam saw the third Plasmius rise as the other two moved to encircle her. Shit, he had cloned himself.

Sam wiped the blood trickling from the side of her mouth with the back of her hand. “Now that's just cheating,” she told the copies.

Three pairs of grins. “Cheating is just using your advantages,” they said, then lunged at her.

It was information overload. She could feel herself slowing, barely able to keep up with the attacks from every which way. There was a blow to the small of her back that tasted of Ectoranium, and the pain of it screamed across her nerves.

She could sense Plasmius moving for the kill shot. But then a shudder rattled her bones. Ghostly energy roared around her, and the duplicates dissolved while the real Plasmius was blown back.

Danny placed a healing hand on her back. “Could you at least tell me when you need help?” His voice was rough with tension. “I can’t exactly focus if I have to worry about your head being taken off when I’m not looking.”

“I was a little busy myself.” Sam leaned against Danny’s side. She gave him a cursory glance. He looked better, though his jumpsuit was singed and torn in places. The Ghost King’s powers could heal a lot, but all the rules got thrown out the window with Ectoranium. “We’re not going to beat him individually.”

Danny reluctantly nodded.

“I keep his attention on me, and then you take him by surprise?”

Danny gave her a short nod.

Sam went left and Danny went right.

“Hey, asshole!” Sam screamed at Plasmius. She shot forward at an angle, shooting at the halfa. He turned to her, and then he was there in front of her, arms raised up and ready to bring them down on her head. Sam raised her hands and the Ring was the only thing that kept her hands up. Pain rang through her.

And then Plasmius’ suit whined in protest. Plasmius’ face twisted in irritation. He backed off, but not in time to dodge another hit from Danny.

Plasmius moved away, but Sam was already there. “Not so fast.”

She punched him directly in the chest. The halfa went flying, spinning wildly until he hit a water fountain. It shattered on impact, and Plasmius rolled through the wreckage.

There was a blue flash at the corner of Sam’s vision. Ice flooded over the ground, encircled Plasmius, and then pounced. The cold engulfed Plasmius until he was encased in a sheet of ice ten feet thick.

Sam panted. Danny moved to stand at her side, five feet in the air.

“ENOUGH!” A flash of green overwhelmed Sam’s eyes, and molten lava was injected into her veins. Then, she hit the floor, and the air in her lungs left her until she was choking and gasping.

Plasmius’ laughter was only a distant echo in her ears. “You fools,” he jeered at them. “You two can’t defeat me. I am the antithesis of everything you aren’t! My very presence brings you pain.”

“Overkill much?” Sam muttered, wincing as she sat up. Plasmius had blown them twenty feet away. 

Danny appeared at her side and formed a shield, sheltering them from the outside. “This isn’t working. His powers trump ours just by existing.”

A thought occurred to Sam. “Not fully ours. Just our powers separately.”

Sam and Danny exchanged a look. A silent conversation happened in a span of a second.

_ It’ll be dangerous. _

_ It’s worth the risk. We can do this. _

Danny exhaled sharply. “Brace yourself,” he warned her.

Sam closed her eyes. She and the Ring of Rage had melded together. But she could feel an awning, thin as paper, separating her from her partner and its wielder. She reached out, and pressed against it. The barrier tore apart like butter.

And then The Ring of Rage and the Crown of Fire’s powers merged into one.

Sam couldn’t tell you exactly what it felt like, to gain the full power of the Ghost Throne. Her awareness of ghosts, once a faint whisper along the edges of her senses, felt like an extension of herself. She could feel the Ghost Zone as a part of her and her as a part of it. Her heart beat, and the Ghost Zone pulsed with it.

Her connection to Danny and the Crown was incredible. She could reach out and Danny’s power and energy were hers and her strength and powers were his.

This was what it meant to be on the Ghost Throne. This was what it meant to be a Ghost Queen. 

There was no need to speak, to exchange glances. Sam and Danny already knew what they would do.

The temperature plummeted. Danny shone with blue light as bright as a star. Within seconds, every surface was frozen solid and it was colder than the coldest parts of the Arctic.

Plasmius didn’t even get a chance to move. His suit froze in place. His ghost was the only thing that saved him from the cold.

Plasmius phased out of the ice. He then split and dozens of duplicates scattered.

Sam raised her hands and the smell of ozone filled the air.

Electricity crackled across her skin. It leapt from her fingertips and the boom that followed when she fired lightning could shatter eardrums. All the copies popped out of existence.

Sam only heard a click before there was a bang and then Danny screamed. A green mist was wrapped around Danny. A smoke bomb.

Plasmius took advantage and rushed at Danny.

Fuck no. Sam blinked and then she was there, intercepting Plasmius with a kick to the chest. The halfa hit the concrete below. Sam briefly checked Danny. He was fine. 

Anger flooded through her system, and Sam descended upon the halfa with a snarl. A red haze fell upon her vision, and couldn’t do anything but attack, her body moving without her brain’s permission.

Plasmius backed up quickly, his suit dented and him listing to one side. Sam opened her arms. A ring of pure blue flames burst into existence. With a single thought, the ring coalesced into a fireball 30-feet in diameter. And then she hurled it towards Plasmius. 

There was no room for Plasmius to escape. 

It hit Plasmius with the force of a comet. Sam could visibly see the ground shudder, and the aftermath of the blast scattered into flames that reached the clouds overhead.

Sam slowly lowered her hands as the flames spun around themselves in the spot where Plasmius stood. The haze of anger was slowly leaving her system and, in the aftermath, it was eerily quiet.

A small projectile launched from the flames and smoke, racing towards her and Danny. The pair of them leapt back, but they were too slow. It detonated, and the searing pain of the Ectoplasm across her skin was intense. She barely managed to catch herself in the air. Grimacing as the final remnants of the Ectoplasm lingered around her, she caught sight of Plasmius leaving the flames, singed and angry but alive.

Sam wanted to scream, as Plasmius raced towards her and Danny. Danny, still grimacing in pain, stood in front of her. He released his Ghostly Wail, and the sound waves tore through the air. Plasmius threatened to buckle but, even after Danny’s Wail faded, he remained standing. 

_ This wasn’t working, _ Sam realized in frustration. Even with all the power at their fingertips, the Ectoranium unmade them with its very presence.

The suit. The suit was the only thing that allowed Plasmius to have the upper hand on them. Without the suit, then Plasmius was a gnat compared to them.

Mr. Fenton’s words echoed in her head.  _ The only issue we had was the suit draining the wearer too much too quickly. _

Clearly, Plasmius had solved the issue by using Ectoranium’s natural power to power the suit. And he must have created the Ectoranium in some type of concentrated form; otherwise, Plasmius would’ve needed to lug a shit ton of Ectoranium all over the place to get the kind of effects he wanted. Which, if she’d picked up anything from spending time with the Fentons and her one engineering class, meant that there was some type of capacitor in there.

Sam’s mind spinning, she dodged a blast from Plasmius.

Over Plasmius’ shoulder, Danny met her gaze.  _ Trust me, _ she willed the words to him. 

His words curled into her head.  _ Always. _

_ Then follow my lead. _

“Plasmius!” Danny shouted. “How does it feel for your obsession not to care about you?”

It was as if Danny had turned all of Plasmius’ muscles to ice. He remained frozen in midair before whirling on Danny with a terrible look on his face.

“Maddie...does...care. She cares for me.” Plasmius gritted his teeth.

Danny shrugged with an air of casualness. “Before, she may have cared for you as a friend, sure. But she’s never cared about you the way you want, has she?”

Danny was blatantly drawing a friendzone around Plasmius, taking Plasmius’ twisted views on relationships and ownership and turning it against him. And Plasmius hated it. The gloves of the Ectoranium hissed and spat as more and more energy was poured into it.

“How does it feel?” Danny asked, a cruel smirk gracing his lips. He played the role of the smug, cruel, arrogant Ghost King, and relished in it. “Knowing that your obsession hates you, and that she will turn you away even if you conquer the world?”

That broke Plasmius. “LIES!” he roared. He lunged at Danny and, with both hands, shot an Ectoranium blast at Danny that was so bright and intense it was almost blinding. The beam created cracks in Danny’s shield. 

Sam  _ moved, _ taking the chance at Plasmius’ distracted focus. She appeared behind Plasmius in an instant. Pooling ghostly energy into her hands, she gripped the backplate of the Ecto-Skeleton and pulled. The plating tore off with a metallic scream.

“Why, you little—” Plasmius twisted upon her with a snarl, but then a purple glow surrounded him and he froze. Danny, gritting his teeth and his hands out, straining as if he was shoving something down with great effort. There was a crack as the ground beneath Plasmius buckled under the force. The half-ghost couldn’t do anything but drop to his hands and knees. 

Sam leapt onto Plasmius’ exposed back, frantically looking at the mess of glowing wires and lights. 

There! With no time to think, Sam slapped her hand into a neat line of green-glowing cylindrical objects. She sent a surge of ghostly energy into them.

Sam had already braced herself for the pain, but she couldn’t stop a scream as the green energy shot up her arm.

“SAM!”

“NO!” Plasmius roared under her. “You’ll kill us both!”

Sam thought of her grandmother. She thought of every ghost she’d seen dissolve in front of her. She thought of Danny, bleeding and dissolving and on the brink of death. All because of one selfish creature.

_ It’s worth it, _ Sam thought. _ It’s worth it to stop you. _

Sam took all the pain and hurt and anger. All the barriers that kept the Ring of Rage contained, she tore them down. And then she sent all the energy she had into her hands and into the suit. 

For a brief moment, there was just a shudder underneath her. Then, there was a silent roaring in her ears. Her body felt weightless. Her vision went white.

Then it all faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you all for the final chapter next week... 😱😭


	16. mirror

“Sam?” 

Sam groaned.

“Sam, please wake up,” a voice insistently said. Even as disorientated as she was, Sam could hear the emotions just below the surface.

Sam blearily opened her eyes and was greeted with Danny’s face just above hers. It was only then that she realized that she was lying in his arms.

They were in their room at the Fentons. She was lying in the bed, and he kneeled right next to her. The curtains were closed and blocking daylight from entering. For a moment, Sam thought that she had become one big bruise. Everything was tender and ached.

“Are you alright?” Danny asked roughly.

Sam gave him a half-smile, half-grimace. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a tractor, but somehow I feel like I’ll live?” She furrowed her brow. “But wait...something’s wrong.” It took her a moment to realize that the feeling of wrongness was actually more of an emptiness, and when she realized what it was from, she froze with panic. “Where’s the Ring and Crown’s energy?”

Sam’s eyes flew to her hand and, to her relief, the Ring of Rage still rested on her finger. Upon deeper concentration, she realized that she didn’t feel empty, exactly. Just...drained. She then realized that all the energy that the Ring of Rage took up was oddly missing. She could only feel faint traces of it deep within herself.

Danny said, “That blast of Ectoranium threatened to consume it entirely. I don’t entirely know what happened, or how we’re still alive. With all that Ectoranium that escaped, I would’ve thought I would’ve been killed.”

From her attack on the suit, Sam remembered. “Right…”

Danny assessed her carefully, and Sam could feel him skimming his energy over hers, testing her recovery. Her energy, while weak, flared unhesitatingly in welcome. Her response seemed to ease Danny; his shoulders relaxed.

And then his face dropped into a scowl. “Now that I’m sure that you’ll be alright...” His voice rose. _“What the fuck were you thinking, attacking his suit like that?”_

Sam winced sheepishly. “It was something that Mr. Fenton had said. I knew that Plasmius had used the Fentons’ suit design as a starting point, and Mr. Fenton had admitted there had been issues with their suit prototype that had prevented it from passing all their safety tests. I also knew that Plasmius’ suit was powered by Ectoranium. Since ghostly energy and Ectoranium are polar opposites, I figured that putting the two of them together in his suit would cancel them out and destroy the suit. So I overloaded the capacitor with ghostly energy, and that plus the Ectoranium already in there caused the whole thing to explode.”

Danny stared at her. “And you had known for sure that it would work?” he asked incredulously.

“Well…”

Her response just incited Danny more. Sam could almost hear the rant building up in his head. But Danny’s jaw just clenched tight. “I heard your thought,” he said quietly.

“What thought?”

“You thought, ‘It’s worth it to stop you.’ You thought that just before you overloaded the suit’s capacitor. You were willing to trade your life to stop Plasmius.”

Danny firmly tilted her jaw so that she could look him in the eye. “Your life is not fucking worth that piece of shit. Nothing is. So don’t you ever fucking think that way ever again.”

Sam flushed. His intense, bone-deep need for her and his need for her safety over everything was… Well. Overwhelming would be an understatement.

Still. “I did it to protect the Ghost Zone and its inhabitants,” she retorted, “as well as the humans. Wasn’t that what I swore to do when I became Queen? Also, I seem to remember you throwing yourself in front of a deadly blast meant for me a few days ago.” 

Danny seemed taken back by her response. His face softened, though his eyes were still tight with anxiety. “Point,” he conceded. His grip on her chin changed, moving so that he could cup her jaw. “How about this? You promise not to throw your life on the line for the world—not without at least talking to someone about it—and I will do the same.”

Sam leaned into his touch. “Deal,” she murmured.

“Good,” he murmured back. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

She hummed. Now that they had resolved that, a million other questions came to mind. “Plasmius?” she said with a hint of anxiety. “What happened?”

Danny pressed his lips together. “There was no sign of him,” he said. “Just the pieces of his suit, and even then most of the suit was disintegrated.” He gave her a measured look. “What do you think?”

She frowned at the question in confusion. But then she recalled the...flavor of Plasmius’ essence. And, even though her ghost powers were weak at the moment, she was somehow completely certain. “He’s dead.” She eyed Danny. “You feel it too?”

He nodded. “I wanted to make sure you felt it too.”

Relief made her muscles weak. The knowledge that it was all over, Plasmius gone for good, had exhaustion rushing through her. Her eyelids felt heavy. “Good,” she mumbled. She let her eyes fall shut. “That’s good.”

Sam felt a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Rest,” Danny murmured to her. “I’ll be here.”

Sam gladly fell asleep.

* * *

Sam rested in the Fenton home for the next few days. Over time, her energy returned and her Ghost Queen powers strengthened. Mrs. Fenton had checked her over and declared her to be weak but recovering. Sam had immediately asked if everyone was okay.

Mrs. Fenton had given her an easy smile. “Everyone’s a little banged up and bruised, but no one got seriously hurt. We were really lucky, but we definitely wouldn’t have survived without the help of those ghosts.” Mrs. Fenton gave her a meaningful look. “And you.”

Sam quirked a smile. “You mean when I pulled rank and commanded all the ghosts in a mile radius to stop fighting?”

“Yup, that’s exactly what I meant,” Mrs. Fenton agreed cheerfully. “Things are looking up too. We’ve been asked by Congress to testify on what happened. You’ve been invited too.”

“Joy,” Sam replied sarcastically. It would be loads of fun to have to explain all of this crap that had happened, plus her new status as Ghost Queen. “I bet a hundred bucks they demand I do a ‘detailed examination’ proving that I’ve not been possessed or coerced into this.”

Mrs. Fenton sighed. “Yeah, well, people are scared about what happened. Plasmius did get very close to taking over. He had overthrown some countries already before you and Phantom stopped him.”

Sam grimaced. She could only imagine. A lot of things were likely to change. “How are you feeling, about Plasmius?” she asked carefully.

Mrs. Fenton’s smile froze in place. She suddenly became very focused on cleaning up her medical instruments, arranging them neatly on the bedside table. “I’m glad it’s over,” Mrs. Fenton said in a measured tone. “He threatened to hurt a lot of people.”

Sam eyed her. Just as she opened her mouth to ask, there was a loud banging. Startled, Sam jumped slightly out of her seat. “What was that?”

Mrs. Fenton’s eyebrows creased. “That’s the front door.”

“Someone’s at the door?”

Loud, obnoxious knocking on the door again.

“Who could that be?” Mrs. Fenton wondered. She turned to the door. “I’ll go check it out.”

“WHERE IS SHE? THAT...GHOST...TOLD US SHE WAS HERE!”

“Oh fuck,” Sam whispered. Because that was undoubtedly her mother, and that meant her parents were here and...shit, she was screwed.

Mrs. Fenton shot her a pleading _do-I-really-have-to-deal-with-your-mother_ look.

“GET OUT OF OUR WAY, JACK. I DON’T CARE IF SHE’S RESTING.”

Sam gave the biggest grimace in response. Danny phased through the floor, an uncomfortable look on his face. “Uh...your parents are on their way up,” he told Sam.

“How did they even know that I was here?” Sam hissed in a panic.

There were heavy footsteps on the stairs, along with the tap-tap-tap of high heels on the floor.

“Your parents caught on to their bodyguard when he was forced to get them out of the city once Plasmius was attacking,” he answered sheepishly. “Apparently, your parents didn’t give Amorpho much of a choice.”

“Now, Pam,” Mr. Fenton spoke hurriedly from the hallway. “Sam’s been through a lot, and she’s only just woken up.”

_“We’ve_ been through a lot,” Sam’s father shouted. “Not only did the Guys in White strip and search our home, our daughter became a fugitive, then went missing, and _then_ we found out that a ghost was trying to take over our world and another ghost grabbed us. So the least that you can do is _let us through so we can see our daughter.”_

“Maybe…” There was an edge of uncertainty to Danny’s voice that momentarily made Sam forget that her parents were about to storm in. “Maybe I should leave.”

Sam realized. Oh. Right. Her anti-ghost parents. The King of Ghosts. Soon to be together in the same room. She hesitated. “If it’s alright, I would like you here with me.”

They only had time to look at each other for a second before the door burst open. Danny remained visible. 

It felt like a lifetime since Sam had seen her parents. Her parents were wild-eyed and disheveled, which was astonishing to see. Sam thought she’d never seen a single hair out of place on her mother’s head. Now, Sam took in the frizzy state of her mother’s bob, and the smudged and tattered state of her dress. Her dad’s collared shirt was torn and his cufflinks were missing. Even still, Sam noted with amusement, her mom still had her high heels on.

“Samantha Manson,” her mother said with burning fury. “You are in a lot of trouble, young lady.”

Sam sighed. “Are you two alright?”

“Don’t try to change the subject, Samantha,” her dad snapped. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do. Don’t think you’ll try to get out of it by trying to butter us up.”

“I’m not trying to butter you up, I genuinely wanted to know how you were doing,” Sam said in exasperation.

“We are _traumatized,”_ her mom’s voice dripped with scorn. “Our home was invaded, our reputations ruined, and then we were forced to flee from some dastardly ghosts attacking! And we heard that you are somehow involved in all of this? We _told_ you that this ghost hunter business only leads to shame and misery.”

“Hold on a second!” Mr. Manson’s voice rose in panic. “Is that a ghost?!”

Finally spotting Danny, Mrs. Manson clutched her husband’s arm in fear. “That’s the Ghost King! Maddie, you’re a ghost hunter, kill him!”

“It’s alright, Pam,” Mrs. Fenton said cajolingly. 

They clearly didn’t hear her words. “I’ll call the Guys in White,” Mr. Manson said and fumbled with his cell phone.

Sam launched out of the bed and grabbed her father’s hand to stop him from dialing, ignoring the way her head spun at the sudden movement. “Stop, it really is alright, dad!”

“I have no intention of hurting you or your wife, Mr. Manson.” Danny almost sounded like an awkward teenager trying to please her parents, and Sam would’ve been laughing hysterically had it been a less tense situation.

“Mom, dad, he’s telling the truth,” Sam told her parents earnestly. She got a pair of dubious looks. “Yes, I know, but would you sit down and let me explain what happened? Mr. and Mrs. Fenton will back up what I’m saying.”

From the stubborn set of her parents’ mouths, it was a very close call from them refusing. But they sat on the bench at the foot of the bed, pointed her to stand in front of them, and waited with barely-constrained impatience.

Daunted at the task of explaining this in a way that wouldn’t make her parents freak out, Sam chanced a look at Danny and Mrs. Fenton. Mrs. Fenton gave her an encouraging look, and Danny gave her a nod. She took a deep breath.

And she started explaining. She explained her first encounter with Danny, how it led to him showing up at her high school reunion and the false gossip that had spread to the Guys in White. Which then led to her hiding and Danny threatening the Guys in White. How her injury from Undergrowth almost killed her, but Danny took her to the Ghost Zone and treated her. And then how Plasmius threatened her and everyone around her to overthrow Danny and take over as the King of Everything. And the choice she made to become the Ghost Queen to protect her loved ones.

When Sam finally finished, her mother’s face was sheet-white and her father looked like he was going to faint. 

“We’re leaving,” was all Pam Manson said. “Sam, I have the phone number of the Guys in White agent in my contacts, I’ll give him a call right now—”

Sam gave her a sputter. “About what?”

“About the fact that you are clearly not in your right mind,” her mother snapped back. “Spending this much time with a ghost. You’re possessed or been influenced or been tricked into thinking that you need to be corrupted by those horrible creatures.”

“That’s not true,” Sam’s voice rose. “I’ve been checked out by the Fentons and they saw that I haven’t been influenced in any way. My mind is my own, and my choices are valid. If you call the Guys in White, you’ll only be bringing more misery to our doorstep, like they always bring.”

“Oh please, don’t throw the blame all on the Guys in White, as if you’re not responsible for this. Your own classmates even reported that you were”—her mom’s voice twisted in disgust— _“intimately_ close with the Ghost King. And look what happened! The world is now in shambles because of what he’d done.”

“That’s not his fault! That was all because of Vlad Masters being a power-hungry maniac!”

“Because he’d become infected by a ghost!”

The complete illogic of what her mother was saying made Sam want to tear her own hair out. “He’d been obsessed with power long before being infected and becoming half-ghost! He was willing to hurt anyone that was in his way!”

“AND NOW MY MOTHER IS DEAD BECAUSE OF IT!” her dad screamed.

Sam reeled back as if he had just struck her deep in the chest.

The room then became painfully silent. 

Sam took in a shaky breath. “I tried to save her,” she whispered. “She wasn’t supposed to get hurt.”

For the first time, Sam thought that her dad looked old. “Well, she still got killed. And you can’t say that all of this,” he waved his hand around, “wasn’t the reason.”

And she couldn’t say that it wasn’t, and she hated it. She hated it more than anything.

“That wasn’t Sam’s fault,” Danny said quietly but surely. “It was mine.”

Sam opened her mouth to argue, but he shot her a look. She glared at him. “A maniac decided that it was okay to murder thirty people to get what he wanted,” she spoke slowly and deliberately. “That’s on him, no one told him to do that.”

With that, she faced her parents once again. “I’m heartbroken that she’s gone.” Sam fought back tears. The ache of missing her grandmother returned in full force. “You know how much I loved her. I wish more than anything that I could bring her back. But I can’t. And I know that she would want me to make do on the promises that I made.”

Her mother scoffed. “Please, you mean being the ‘Ghost Queen’? That’s just something that _he_ made you think was your responsibility.”

“I’ve been clear-headed this entire time, mom, so don’t try to reduce what I’m trying to say here.”

“She has been entirely uninfluenced, Pam,” Mrs. Fenton said. “Don’t worry, I checked.”

Sam’s parents didn’t look convinced, but her mom switched tactics. “That doesn’t mean that she should just throw her life away to become Queen to a bunch of dead people. Remember our agreement, Samantha?”

For a moment, Sam was struck speechless. She was at a complete loss for her mother to throw something like that in her face. She trembled in anger, and she felt the shiver in the air as power filled the air.

“That agreement...” Sam said slowly, deliberately. “That agreement was made just after Undergrowth had ravaged Amity Park and turned me into a puppet. I was a wreck—I didn’t know how to feel like I was in control of my life. Ghost hunting was the only thing that made me feel like my life was _mine._ Making that agreement was the only way you and dad would let me do ghost hunting. The social events and the stupid dresses you would stick me in were annoying, but it was fine. And I was willing to go along with some of the career path shit you nagged me to do.

“But you seriously think that an agreement I made three years ago gives you the power to decide what I want to do with _my_ life? You and dad have always butted your heads into my life, telling me what was best for me, but it was always what _you_ both wanted for me.”

Her mom scoffed. “Oh please, don’t act like you haven’t gotten your way at times. You were the one who declared that you wanted to go to Berkeley, not Princeton or Harvard. If you are so insistent on this stupid Ghost Queen stuff, then you can figure out how to pay for your tuition on your own.”

Sam barked out a bitter laugh. “Seriously? Your form of a threat is to get me out of college for not doing what you want, limiting my options and making it even more tempting just to go through this Ghost Queen path?”

It was clear her mother had not thought that far ahead. She opened her mouth, but Sam cut her off. “Do what you want. Pay it or don’t pay it, I don’t give a shit. Just know that you can't dangle that stupid agreement anymore; that worked when you had some leverage on my life, when I was recovering and finding myself again, but you don’t anymore. I love you both and I want to get to a point where we both respect each other. That may not be right now, but maybe in the future, when I’ve proven to you that I’m not the mindless puppet of a ghost, you two trust me to make the right decisions, and you accept that the choices I make in life may not be the ones that you wanted for me.”

It was clear her mother was insulted by her words, and Sam was fairly sure her dad had stopped listening to her as soon as she’d uttered the word “shit.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Mrs. Fenton stepped in. “Sam needs to rest. You can talk with Sam later about this.”

Sam’s mom sniffed. “Fine. We’ll be at home, assessing the damage.”

“When will grandma’s funeral be?” Sam asked quietly. 

Her father didn’t look happy, but he answered anyway, “We were thinking by the end of the week. It’s been long enough.”

Sam gave him a nod. “Let me know how I can help.”

There was no response to that; they just left.

Sam exhaled and sagged against the bed. “Well, that went well,” Sam said, only half sarcastic.

Mrs. Fenton snorted, then laid her hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Are you alright, sweetie?”

Sam nodded. “I knew it would be tough to explain. That they wouldn’t understand. I’m just glad that they’re safe. The rest will resolve itself later.”

“Go and lay back down, you still have some resting to do.” Sam complied and laid back, relaxing back into the mattress. She hadn’t realized how much tension she’d been carrying while arguing with her parents; her muscles ached.

It was only then that Sam noticed that Danny had gotten oddly quiet. His hair had fallen over his face and she couldn’t see his eyes. 

* * *

It would take a while for her parents to get used to the ways she had fundamentally changed. But that was okay, because they had time now. She was far more concerned about Danny’s reaction; she hadn’t seen him that quiet before. But, she couldn’t bring it up yet.

A week after the final confrontation with Plasmius, Sam was declared healthy, and she was released from the Fentons’ care. Thankful to be up and walking around, Sam managed to escape from the massive crowd of people surrounding the Fenton’s house and crept back into her apartment. Stepping into her space and looking around, it felt like it was ages ago that she had been there last. She slowly walked around, taking in the space that felt familiar and yet brand new at the same time. 

A lot had changed since she stopped a ghost and then ended up running into the Ghost King for the first time. _She_ had changed a lot. Sam snorted, imagining her younger self’s reaction to what she had done and where she was now. The Sam who had just survived Undergrowth would have been horrified. There had been a time in her life when she had truly despised every single ghost out there, believing with all of her heart that the world would be better off if all ghosts were eliminated. She’d faced the reality of her own prejudice when she stayed in their home for weeks on end, when they’d cared for her and joked with her and showed her that ghostly nature was a lot like human nature. There were good ghosts and bad ghosts, but they were all trying to protect themselves and the ones they cared about.

She’d learned what it was like to lose, and the pain from losing her grandmother was something she imagined would never fade. Sam would miss her for the rest of her life. And she would never let her memory die. Her grandmother had taught her to forge her own path, to believe in herself, and not let anyone sway her from making the right choice. 

She had already made her choice. And the first step was the press conference being held in twenty minutes.

She needed to get ready. She knew exactly what she was going to wear.

When Sam emerged from her bedroom, she was dressed in simple black dress pants, a white blouse, and a black blazer. She tugged on her favorite leather black boots, then gazed at her reflection in the mirror. She gave an approving nod to herself: she was respectfully stylish while still having a hint of _her_ style. She inhaled deeply, then sighed and said, “I know you're there, Ember.”

There was a chuckle, then the ghost faded into existence. 

“Boss Queen,” Ember said with a nod of acknowledgement.

“Was there something you needed?”

Ember shrugged. “Wanted to warn you that the Observants are throwing a fit, spouting bullshit that they need to see you before you're officially Queen.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Is that an actual thing or are they just being assholes?”

“They’re just being assholes. Baby Pop crowned you and declared you Queen, that’s enough.”

“I’m guessing it won’t hurt for me to play nice with them, though. It sounded like they were even more of a pain for Phantom if he didn’t play nice with them.”

“Who gives a shit, they can’t do crap as long as Phantom supports you. And he’s always going to support you.”

Sam smiled. Then she saw Ember’s face. “Oh, shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” the ghost said innocently, still smirking. 

Sam rolled her eyes. She imagined that this wouldn’t be the last time she would be teased by the Grand Diplomat. “Alright, fine. Well, if that’s it, then I’m off to go face the world.”

“Actually,” Ember stopped her, “I wanted to ask you if you and King Phantom had talked about what you were going to do now, now that your life isn’t being threatened by a power-hungry halfa.”

Sam didn’t know what the protocol was for the Ghost Throne to share plans or secrets with its Councilmembers, but she knew Danny fully trusted Ember and that Ember was one of her favorites out of Danny’s Council. She figured it wouldn’t hurt to share. “There are a lot of rumors and worry around the world right now,” Sam said. “The world’s kinda in chaos right now, and people are more afraid of ghosts than ever. People need to know what happened and where the Ghost Zone stands now, or things are going to spiral out of control.”

“Sure,” Ember allowed, “but a press conference?”

Sam shrugged. “It was the easiest way I could think of to get my message out there.”

Ember shifted her weight to one side, assessing Sam carefully. “So, what’s the plan?”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? I just said—”

“Not about the press conference.” Ember rolled her eyes. “I know that you’re planning on announcing that you’re the Ghost Queen. I meant what you’re planning on doing _after_ that.”

“Oh.”

“I’m curious to know too,” Danny said quietly. He stood stock still.

Sam blinked, taking in the subdued slant of the Ghost King’s shoulders, the firm line of his mouth. He was suddenly only a few steps away from her, when she knew he wasn’t there a moment earlier. “What are you doing here?” Sam said incredulously. “I thought I would meet you at the capitol steps, since you had to talk with Frostbite and Skulker.”

“I talked with them, they’ve got the castle ready. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Danny eyed her. “And I was curious about your plans after this press conference.” 

Sam hesitatingly scrutinized him, still getting the vibe that something was off. She thought of asking flat-out what was wrong. But he was waiting to hear her answer with a lot of anticipation, and she decided to go with it for now.

“Well,” Sam started slowly, “I still have a few years of college left. I know Berkeley has a Poli-Sci major, or I could try getting into their Global Management Program. One of those majors would probably help give me a background in human geopolitics, which is looking more and more like a good thing for me to have. My parents threatened to not pay my tuition, but I could easily use my own money or get scholarships, so I should be able to finish college.”

A thought occurred to Sam. She groaned. _“Fuck,_ I probably _am_ going to have to take that Campaigns and Elections class my parents were nagging me about.” She could easily picture the smug look on their faces when they found out, and it had Sam grimacing in disgust.

Ember snorted at her. “You probably don’t need to take it, it’s not like you have to worry about elections when you’re Queen.” 

“Here’s hoping they don’t specifically name that class in their requirements,” Sam muttered to herself. She imagined that her mom would take her taking that class as her capitulating to her parents’ desires, which would likely make things worse when Sam continued to take the opposite path of what they wanted for her.

Ember crossed her arms. “So you’ll spend all your time in the human world?”

Sam cocked her head. “Well, obviously, I’d be splitting my time between school and Ghost Queen duties,” she says clearly. “I still need to learn about being Ghost Queen. There’s a lot of work to do in healing the rift between ghosts and humans, especially after what Plasmius did.” 

Ember threw a pointed look at Danny, who seemed to have frozen still.

“Are you sure?” was all Danny said.

That did it. Sam threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. “Have you become a robot or something? Yes, for the hundredth time, I’m sure. The hell is this about?”

And then Ember _kicked_ Danny in the shin. She literally kicked her King in the shin.

Danny shot Ember a look. Danny said stiffly, “Given the possibility of you throwing your life away, I thought you’d want to spend as much time in the human world as possible.”

At that, Sam scoffed and rolled her eyes, but also relaxed because she finally had an idea of what was going on. “Is that what you’re being all angsty about? My mom’s been dramatically bemoaning how I’m throwing my life away since I was ten. It’s nothing particularly new. Plus, she doesn’t understand why me being the Ghost Queen isn’t throwing my life away. ”

Her blasé attitude seems to surprise him. “How? Ghosts are hated by humans. If you’re planning on going back to college as a regular student, you’re going to be treated a lot differently. Everyone will be able to recognize you as the Ghost Queen.”

“And the reason so many humans hate ghosts is because they don’t understand them.” Sam unthinkingly began to pace as she began to voice the plan that had steadily been forming in the back of her mind for a while. “There’s a huge disconnect in knowledge and education on both sides, and it’s caused suffering and misunderstandings on both sides. If we educate humans on ghostly obsessions and create protections for ghostly objects, and create laws and protocols for handling ghostly obsessions of humans, then we can ease a lot of unrest and strife and protect a lot of people on both sides.”

There was a pause. And then he was right in front of her, pressing his lips to hers urgently, passionately. Sam only froze in surprise for a moment before his passion sparked her. She kissed him back fiercely, meeting his every touch with heat. She felt her whole body flush.

Ember gagged somewhere behind Sam. “You two lovebirds are going to be disgusting, aren’t you?”

They broke off the kiss and Danny rested his forehead on hers. “Ember, beat it,” he ordered casually.

Ember snorted. “Sure, sure, boss, whatever you say.”

Ember faded from Sam’s senses, indicating that they were alone. The corner of Sam’s mouth lifted. “What was that for?” she murmured.

Danny smiled. “They’re waiting for you.”

Sam scrunched her face. “My answer better be waiting for me after I finish.”

Still smiling, he nodded encouragingly. “Go get ‘em.”

Sam gave him one last kiss before she teleported to a backstage that was setup in preparation for this event. She wasn’t seen; no one besides the setup crew was needed for this, and they were long gone. She walked out on stage. A podium waited for her, and in front of it was what looked like hundreds of flashing lights from cameras. Shouts erupted, questions overlapping one after another in a sound frenzy.

“Ms Manson!”

“Ms Manson, you have been reportedly accused of being the Ghost Queen, can you confirm this statement?”

“Ms Manson, there are video recordings of you levitating items and shooting ghostly energy from your person. Can you comment on these videos?”

“Ms Manson, accusations have come to light about you conspiring to hurt and murder your former high school classmates. Is this true?”

The clamor and frenzy only continued to grow louder. 

Sam stood, the microphone and the world in front of her. She had never felt so sure about what she was about to say.

“My name is Sam Manson, and I am the Ghost Queen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, it's done. It's finished. 
> 
> I could never have imagined where this fic would go when I decided to take _Ghostly Pursuits_ and make it the longer, more detailed fic I'd initially imagined for it. This whole fic ended up becoming 91k+ words, which is far longer than anything I've ever written. I am so proud for deciding to post a new chapter every week and actually _sticking_ to that, even when chapters weren't fully finished the week before, but I am most proud of sticking through and continuing to write this fic even when motivation dropped or I got busy. I learned so much about myself and writing through this process.
> 
> I want to give the biggest shoutout to tigrrli again, who is so kind for reading over this fic despite not even being in the DP fandom. And I want to give an even bigger shoutout to the lovely readers who have stuck with me week after week, sharing your thoughts and love and support. You truly made all the hard work that went into this fic worth it, and made it an absolute pleasure to post every week. I adore each and every one of you.
> 
> Am I completely done in this verse? I would say I'm not sure - I do have ideas for little drabbles and ficlets, but I haven't written anything yet. I would recommend subscribing to this series and being patient with me, because even I don't know when the writing fever will strike.
> 
> Feel free to reach out to me on Tumblr (@infinisei) if anything ever comes up or if you want to chat about anything. Wishing you all good health and happiness ❤️ infinisei


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